Chasing Nirvana
by caffinate-me
Summary: AU. Two years after model Grace Beckett uses her twin sister, Kate's, name in a one-night-stand with mystery novelist Richard Castle, things get complicated when the real Kate Beckett brings Castle in for questioning in a murder.
1. Come As You Are

Chasing Nirvana

Summary: Two years after model Grace Beckett uses her twin sister, Kate's, name in a one-night-stand with mystery novelist Richard Castle, things get complicated when the real Kate Beckett brings Castle in for questioning in a murder.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Castle, Beckett or Nirvana, but, for better or worse, Grace is all mine.

* * *

Chapter 1- Come As You Are

May 2007

The Big Brass Jazz Band was in full swing as Grace Beckett walked through the front doors of The Lounge, the heels of her Christian Louboutin pumps punctuating her entrance.

When Grace's friend, Elise had stormed into Grace's apartment earlier that evening and told her she was dragging her to a book launch party at a jazz club, Grace had all but chained herself to the refrigerator in her minimalist Los Angeles apartment in protest. It was only when Elise had practically begged her, pointing out that she was trying to get a book published, that Grace had finally relented. After all, Elise did make a very good point: no one was going to pay attention to the memoir of a twenty-five year old privileged white girl partying her way through Europe and Asia for a year, without getting caught up in the sex trafficking trade, or thrown in a Thai prison, unless she kissed some serious ass. And in her slinky silver dress, Grace was the perfect wingman.

So here she was, standing alone at the bar, left to put in drink orders for herself and her friend, who had promptly taken off after editors, publishers, publicists and potential sugar daddies unknown. While Grace had planned on spending her last Saturday stateside in a club in LA, she had imagined it as more of a posh sea of beautiful twenty-somethings supplemented by bottle service and recreational pharma, and less as a party for some geezer of an author in a retro bar.

Grace had just started considering making a break for it, heading to the nearest nightclub where she could lose herself in the thrum of the music, the feel of a faceless body grinding up against hers, when the front door was thrown open and the room lit up with the flashes from the dozens of cameras outside. A lone figure came strolling in, his back to her as he posed for the crowd, answering questions.

"Mr. Castle, Mr. Castle, what's next for Derrick Storm? Is it true that you are planning to retire him?" A reporter called.

Castle. Richard Castle. Her sister's favorite author. Kate had gotten lost in those books after their mother... No. Her fingernails dug into her palm. She was not thinking about that. Grace shook her head out of the impending spiral, forcing her focus back to the present.

"What of the rumors of your divorce from Gina? Is your next move for Storm a plan to spite her?"

Castle laughed in response, and Grace surreptitiously leaned back against the polished wood counter, taking a sip of her drink. The bartender, who was already sweating through his perfectly pressed, white button down and black vest, had finally returned with her order of two dirty martinis, extra olives. She allowed her eyes to roam over the newcomer's back, a single eyebrow quirking as he lifted his arms, revealing his fantastically shaped backside beneath the edge of his Armani suit jacket. Her gaze only wavered when she lifted her glass to her lips, throwing back the rest of the olive-laced Hendrick's before starting in on Elise's. Her friend wouldn't miss it.

"Stop fishing, Carly, we all know Derrick Storm isn't going anywhere," Castle answered chuckling. "But, tonight is not a night to talk about my books or my relationship. We are all here to celebrate my fellow writer, Lee's, new book, definitely a literary achievement leagues above my own, so why don't we focus on him?"

With that, Castle turned to enter the room, the doors closing behind him, leaving the entry devoid of the flashing lights and shouted questions. Grace watched as he closed his eyes, tugging at his lapels and sleeves and patting his hair before flashing a smile; nodding and waving as he took in the faces around the room, like the press hadn't phased him at all.

Using her teeth, she pulled an olive from the skewer - a sorry excuse for dinner. Grace's elbows now rested behind her on the edge of the bar as her eyes wandered along with the writer, her head tilting to the side. He wasn't faceless and he definitely wasn't nameless, but he would do.

Just as Castle made to round the corner behind a larger group of people, a slender blonde, impeccably dressed in a pale pink gown, stormed up behind him, grabbing him by the arm as she guided him toward the back corner. Grace was about to follow, drink in hand, curiosity getting the better of her manners, when her phone sounded from her clutch. The ringtone blared obnoxiously through the space as the band paused between sets, gathering more than one sideways glance from the other patrons of the party. Cursing under her breath, she fished the offending device out with a roll of her eyes. It was probably Antonio. The man couldn't take a hint. It had been fun, a good short-term distraction, but now it was over. Instead she let out a groan as she stared at the name flashing across the small square screen.

_Kate_.

With a defiant clench of her jaw she rocked the side of her finger against the mute button on the edge of the phone, then let her hand fall to her side as she lifted the martini to her lips with her other. Sagging slightly against the bar, she lifted it back up when it chirped out the alert of a voicemail notification. Of course her sister would leave a voicemail on a Saturday night, even if it were well after midnight in New York. That was just how Katie was; she couldn't leave it alone.

Flipping the phone open, she stood staring at it for a long time, lost in thought, as it lay open in her palm. Shaking her head back to the present, she flipped it closed and shoved it into her clutch. This was not the time, nor the place to think about all of that. Instead, she decided to turn her attention back to the writer. Scanning the faces in the room, her gaze lingered on Elise for a moment as the other woman hung on a gray-haired man's arm. Moving on with an eye roll, she let out a huff, lower lip stuck out in a pout, when she realized she could no longer spot Mr. Castle in the crowd. So she did the only thing she could do with her family on her mind and the handsome writer out of her sights - she took another drink.

Grace had just finished her third martini when she felt a presence beside her. Tuning her head as she lowered the glass, she took in the form of the writer hunched over the bar next to her as he unsuccessfully attempted to flag down the bartender. Glancing down at her empty glass, only a single, gin-soaked green olive remaining, she let out a sigh and placed it on the bar behind her, switching it out for Elise's replacement round. Her friend wouldn't miss this one either.

The usual butterflies in her stomach had been muted by the alcohol buzzing through her veins, so swinging back around, Grace used two fingers of her free hand to tap the man on the arm. His shoulders sagged in response as he ran the hand he had been using to signal the bartender through his hair. He turned to her, and Grace was momentarily caught, breathless as her eyes connected with his, mischievous, blue, and sparkling back at her. Grabbing a hold of what was left of her bearings, she managed to hold the drink out in front of her in offering. Her lips tilted up in a sultry smile as he took it, and she reached back in to snag the skewer, lifting it up to rest against her lips before using her teeth to pull off a single olive. Grace had never been too keen on reading novels, and she hadn't inherited the analytical skills her sister had always used to piece apart mysteries, but she had never met a man who didn't want her. And it appeared Richard Castle was no exception. She was here, she was dressed to the nines, she might as well have a little fun.

His face broke into a wide grin, and he glanced covertly around the room before taking a half step closer to her, leaning in.

"Hi, I'm Rick."

Grace's smile widened as she leaned her elbow on the bar, her hand coming up to play with her long, blonde-streaked hair. Maybe this party wouldn't be so bad after all.

This was what she needed- fun. No strings, no commitment, just a night to forget everything- Antonio, her sister's unheard voicemail message taunting her from her purse. But she didn't need another person to complicate her life. She didn't need to be tethered to the states when she had just been offered a gig back in Paris. So, she stepped forward, her hips brushing ever so slightly against his, and gave the first name that came to mind.

"Kate, my name is Kate."

* * *

Richard Castle practically collapsed against the bar as he was, once again, ignored by the bartender. He could not catch a break. Not only had his second marriage officially crumbled with the signing of the divorce papers two days ago before he had left New York, he was having to deal with his first ex-wife thanks to this book tour stop in LA providing the "perfect opportunity for mother-daughter bonding" with Alexis. Now he couldn't even get a drink.

Divorce was different this time. No one had blamed him for filing for separation the first time, despite having a young daughter, considering he had walked in on his actress wife, Meredith, in bed with her director. But when his second marriage had started to crumble, there was no big event, no blow up or single person to blame. It had just fizzled apart. In many ways it was so much harder. This time there were sideways looks, the suggestions of therapy. There were whispers of a _second _marriage ending, his daughter losing another mother. The rumors in the tabloids were that it was his fault, after all he was the one with the playboy image.

He had almost told his driver to keep going when he saw the sea of press outside The Lounge from the road. Part of him still wished he had, but fielding a few uncomfortable questions was a small price to pay to support his friend, Lee Cooper, who had been a mentor and inspiration to him during Rick's time with Black Pawn. If this was going to be Lee's last book, as he intended, it was the least that Rick could do to show up and celebrate, despite the fact his now ex-wife and current editor would be there as well. He had definitely learned his lesson about dipping his quill in the company ink.

The second time he considered making a break for it had been when he was eyeing the emergency exit sign over Gina's shoulder where she had yanked him into the hall after the press had threatened to eat him whole. She had been yelling at him about something inconsequential, about how _"our personal relationship should in no way affect our professional one. Withholding your latest chapters isn't just low, Rick, it's in direct violation of that agreement. I am still your editor and deserve to be treated as such." _

He had tuned out halfway through her rant, realizing the two fingers of scotch he had sipped in the car was wearing thinner with every word she uttered, wondering if he would survive until he made it over to the bar for more. He couldn't bring himself to tell her that the reason she didn't have a manuscript yet wasn't because of petty grudges. Instead of writing since she had moved out and they had filed for divorce, he had been sitting around the Manhattan loft in his boxers beating level after level of Guitar Hero and World of Warcraft. Derrick Storm was starting to become what Castle thought the character never would: boring.

But now here he was, after smiling and making small talk, debating whether it would be better to jump over the bar or just give in and call his driver to take him to the nearest dive when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Rubbing a hand through his hair, he considered ignoring whomever it was. He had already signed so many books, programs and assorted body parts that even the ones he normally didn't mind signing were getting old. With a pained sigh he forced a brilliant smile onto his face and turned, only to have the breath knocked completely out of him. She was the single most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Taking the proffered martini from her hand, he felt his blood surge. Who knew an olive could be so seductive.

He was in motion before his northernmost brain could intervene, to convince him that hitting on a woman, albeit a drop dead gorgeous one with long, flowing, hair the color of hazelnuts, and sparkling green eyes, was a bad idea when he was mere feet from his barely-ex-wife with a sea of paparazzi piranhas right outside the door.

"Hi, I'm Rick."

She smiled back at him, and he felt like his heart would shatter. He had never seen something so perfectly stunning before. Her hips brushed against his and he gasped. Maybe tonight wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Kate, my name is Kate."

Kate. Perfect. So completely perfect.

"Hi, Kate. You know you have a beautiful name."

In his haze, Rick saw something flash in her eyes, but she covered it quickly. Choosing to ignore it, he drained the rest of his martini and looked around the room, drinking in the atmosphere.

On any other night he would be thrilled to listen to a band cover the best of Sinatra in a place like this. It reminded him of The Old Haunt, his favorite bar in New York in which to sit with a smooth scotch and his laptop.

"I just love the feel of this place, reminds me of an old speakeasy."

"Yeah," his new acquaintance murmured, her lips now centimeters from his ear, officially derailing any other topics of small talk he could imagine. "It's great."

"So, Kate, you want to get out of here?"

Her hands wrapped around his hips, tugging his body impossibly closer. Castle's eyes darkened as she whispered in his ear, his breath catching in his throat.

"You have no idea."

* * *

Grace stretched lazily in the bed, relishing how the buzz of her skin intensified with every brush against the Egyptian cotton sheets. The vestiges of the very expensive champagne Rick had ordered from room service still pumping through her veins, as she watched the man lightly snoring next to her. That had been, wow, nothing short of completely amazing. He had kissed her like he had known her entire life. Her body was set on fire from a single touch of his finger trailing down her side, tracing a line around the small tattoo on her hip, a whisper asking the meaning as he pressed a kiss in the center. A silly smile lazed on her face. The way he had smiled up at her, mischievous, as his head had disappeared between her thighs. She squirmed in the bed, legs rubbing against the silky cotton as she got momentarily lost in the memory. Oh, she definitely had no regrets about any of it.

But now she sighed as she lifted herself onto her elbows to see the clock on the other side of Rick's sleeping form. The red numbers glared back at her. Four in the morning. She really needed to leave, to get out before he awoke and made this more than what it was. A few hours of blissful perfection not impeded by false meaning, last names, or reality.

Rick stirred in the bed, and Grace held her breath as he mumbled unintelligibly before rolling onto his side. Making sure he was settled, she shifted out of bed, and padded silently around the room, gathering articles of clothing from where they had been strewn. Yanking on her bra and underwear, she ran a hand through her hair. Oh God, Elise. Elise was going to be mad, abandoning her in the middle of the party.

As quietly as possible, Grace rummaged through her clutch, fishing out her phone, alerts for three texts and a voicemail greeting her. Her heart sank as she stared at the screen, she had forgotten. Reading the texts first, she couldn't help but smile at the message from her friend.

_Coffee. 10am. I'm still pissed even though I saw that stud you left with._

The second was a reminder to come by the agency and pick up her schedule for her first couple of weeks in Paris. The third: Antonio. The man could not take a hint.

Her lower lip caught between her teeth as she stared at the voicemail. She could delete it, act like her number had changed, like she had never gotten it, but truthfully it had been four years, and she had yet to actually change her number. She pounded her password in and lifted the phone to her ear. She shouldn't listen, shouldn't put herself through this torture, the doubt in her decision. Her family… no, her sister and father were poison, attempting to drag her down with them into the black hole that had been created when…

"_Hey, Gracie, it's me…"_ Grace's sister's voice, the lower tone, which had inexplicably never been identical to her own, tore her from her spiral of thoughts. _"Look, I know you don't want to hear from me, you've made that perfectly clear."_

Grace rolled her eyes at the inherent droll sass.

"_But I just thought you'd like to know Dad's doing great, he received his 3 year chip yesterday. We went out to dinner at Sal's to celebrate, and… well… umm, I got promoted."_ A nervous laugh sounded through the speaker. _"Youngest female detective in the NYPD. Homicide…"_

Grace's heart clenched, as her breath stuttered at the underlying pride in Kate's voice. How could her sister, her _identical_ _twin_ sister, be so brave and so stupid at the same time? She should be running from that life, from all the death, but instead she kept diving head first into it, falling. Kate was content to drown in the dark while Grace kept sprinting toward the light, praying to be engulfed by it.

"_I would say to call me back, but we both know you won't. So, yeah, that's it. Take care of yourself, Grace. Bye."_

With a tired shake of her head, Grace flipped the phone shut, shoving it back into her bag, her blood boiling at Kate's biting statement. She didn't care. She had told them as much when she stormed out of her father's Manhattan apartment four years before. Kate futilely trying to pry a bottle of whiskey from their father's hand, empty promises of sobriety falling from his lips. It hadn't lasted then, and it wouldn't last now. And her sister… well, Kate just had a death wish. She couldn't stick around to watch them kill themselves then; she wasn't going to start now. She shouldn't have listened to the damn message. Next week she would be on a plane back to Paris, back to her life and her job with _Modern Fashion_.

Slipping on the rest of her clothes, she leaned over the bed, brushing a kiss to Rick's head before heading out the door. It was a shame, they had the potential to be good together, but there was no looking back now. No strings. She was going to be someone. She was going to be happy. She was going to be free.

* * *

A/N: In case there is any confusion this is a Kate/Castle story… eventually. ;)

This is going to be a little more fun than some of my more recent works. I hope you enjoy the ride. I am definitely enjoying writing it. As always, I look forward to hearing what you think.

Thank you to Kate Christie for her unwavering support, brutal honesty, and knowledge of women's fashion. And thank you to Angie (Dtrekker) for her perfect cover art.

Based off a Tumblr prompt that Season 1 Beckett and Season 4 Beckett look more like sisters/twins than the same person.


	2. As You Were

Chapter 2- As You Were

March 2009

Detective Katherine Beckett lifted a single eyebrow as she took in the sight of the body of the young woman lying in a bed of flowers in front of her. Of all the ways she had expected to find the remains of social worker Allison Tisdale, on her dining room table, naked but modestly covered in flower petals had not been one of them. Luckily she managed tamp down her initial urge to jump up and down clapping her hands. Not because the woman was dead- she'd never be happy about that, but because of the way the killer had left the body. It all made sense now. Part of her was kicking herself for not seeing it sooner. Before she could say anything, a snarky comment sounded from the person at her side.

"Even brought her flowers. Who says romance is dead?"

Kate snorted at her friend, Medical Examiner Lanie Parish's, statement. "I do every Saturday night."

"A little lipstick wouldn't hurt."

Now was not the time for Lanie to be critical of her social life, or in this case, lack of one. She didn't need anyone, she was happy as she was. She worked hard, she went home and relaxed with her friends or with a good book. She saw her father for Sunday brunch. She didn't need anything more than that. With a roll of her eyes, Kate focused back in on the body.

In fact, she had just been reading one particular book earlier that day, the scene described just as it was laid out before her now. _Flowers for Your Grave. _This, combined with poor Marvin Fisk being left in the middle of a pentagram, just like in _Hell Hath No Fury, _proved it. Murder mystery novelist Richard Castle had a copycat. Kate's lips pressed in a thin line as she crouched beside the body, the young woman's face at eye level. Or he was the murderer.

The other detectives were throwing around theories now. Based on the victim's state of undress, it needed to be handed over to Special Victims.

"No," Kate voiced, pushing herself back to standing, arms crossed over her chest. Her no-nonsense suit jacket, courtesy of the sale rack at Macy's, pulled tight across her back. "You won't find any sign of sexual assault."

Drawing her lip in between her teeth she winced as they kept at her with questions. They were going to make her come out and say it, weren't they? They wouldn't just let her have this one.

"Rose petals on her body, sunflowers on her eyes?" She rolled her eyes with a huff when not one of the dozen cops in the room jumped to the same conclusion she had already come to five minutes before. "Don't you guys read?"

* * *

Kate couldn't lie, she had breathed a sigh of relief when Richard Castle's publicist had come back with solid alibis for the man at the time of both murders. After all, Kate did admire his writing, and his books had helped her get through more than one towering hurdle in her life. It was nice to be able to go home after working on an unsolvable case, and read a story where the bad guy was caught, the good guys won and the families got answers. That sense of closure, of finally knowing, that was everything. The fact that the man was easy on the eyes didn't hurt either.

The March night was unseasonably mild around her as she stood on the roof of a New York City skyscraper, outside the launch party for Richard Castle's new book, _Storm Fall. _She attempted to breathe through the swarm of butterflies fluttering in her gut, threatening to fly up her esophagus and escape out of her lips. No matter how much Kate Beckett tried to deny it, she was a fan. Even though she had managed to keep her cool the one time she had come face to face with him at a book signing years before, the circumstances had been a little different. She hadn't been required to say anything other than her name. This time she had to question him about a murder.

With one final breath she flashed her badge at the attendant and squared her shoulders as she entered the party. Music blared around her, cameras flashing as she made her way across the room to the bar where the attendant had pointed her with a knowing smirk. Nearing the bar she paused, fighting the urge to pull her lower lip in between her teeth, when she couldn't see him. After a moment of searching, she gave in and tapped a tall thin blonde woman in a silky gold dress beside her on the shoulder, apologizing for interrupting her conversation as she flashed her badge. The woman huffed, gesturing to a man leaning over the bar next to a young red head. Kate shook off the feeling that there was a bigger story there as she thanked the woman with a small smile and continued the few feet to the bar, lifting her badge cradled in her palm as she came to a halt behind the man's hunched back.

His words trailed back through the space to her meet her. "Just once, I'd like someone to come to me and say something new."

"Mr. Castle?"

He turned around, brandishing a sharpie with a flourish, a complete one eighty from his previous position and statement. "Where would you like it."

This time Kate couldn't stop; her eyes rolled in a full circle. Apparently the rumors about his maturity level were true. "Kate Beckett, NYPD, we need to ask you about a murder that took place earlier tonight."

With that he froze, eyes wide as they roamed over her face, her collar-length hair, before falling to the gold badge in her hand. His mouth fell open, forming a perfect oval amidst his adorably scruffy face. No, he wasn't adorable, he was a person of interest in a murder.

"Kate, hi."

The words came out as a breath, and his face split into a wide grin as Kate's head cocked to the side, her brow furrowed in confusion. But before she could question his apparent familiarity, the red headed girl popped over his shoulder, plucking the pen from his fingers.

"That's different."

* * *

Richard Castle couldn't help but scan the faces in the sea of female fans when he entered the rooftop party for his latest, and last, Derrick Storm novel. It had become a ritual during the past two years. Every book launch he had been to, every signing, every Black Pawn event, even if it was probably pointless. They had met under random circumstances on the other end of the country. He had no reason to believe she would be in New York, or Chicago or Houston or New Orleans. He didn't even know if she was part of the publishing world. He didn't know anything more than her name, and every part of her body he had memorized over the course of those few hours, but it had become a ritual- find Kate. So he searched for those mesmerizing eyes, that long soft hair, the dazzling smile. Every search came up empty.

He couldn't even say why he became so obsessed. It wasn't like she was different than any other woman he had fallen in bed with for a one-night stand. But she was. There was just something about her…

With a shake of his head, Rick plastered a smile on his face through his disappointment and stepped into waiting twittering throng of fans and colleagues. If that night two years about had taught him anything, it was that he was better off with casual relationships and one-night stands. You couldn't get hurt if you weren't emotionally invested.

Music pulsed from the speakers, wine, beer and champagne flowed from the bar. Perfectly crafted, bite-sized hors d'oeuvres floated by on silver trays. It was chic glamour, perfect for Derrick Storm's send off and, as Gina liked to point out, for sales.

A blonde drunkenly giggled at his side, grabbing his arm to stall his forward stride, as he waved to a group of fellow writers in the corner. Turning toward her he smiled in return, forcing the thought of the one woman who had haunted his dreams for the past 2 years from his mind. He took the felt-tipped marker from her fingers as she pulled aside the strap of her dress. Her lip caught between her teeth at his sharp intake of breath when the dress slipped an inch too far flashing him a glimpse of her nipple. Yeah, there were plenty of women here who could distract him for a few hours.

Before he knew it he was caught up in the crowd, a flute of champagne in one hand and the marker in his other. It had been a rough year: his decision to end the stalemate of a relationship with Storm. Beyond that, Alexis, his baby, had officially started high school, and his mother had moved back in with them in their New York loft. Time was flying by," and it was a fight to not get caught up in the maelstrom. Finally his attention was drawn from one final "chest" when Gina's voice cut through the crowd on the microphone, her shrill timber, which seemed to be just naturally laced with disapproval for his actions, jarring him from any inappropriate fantasies he was currently having about the woman in front of him.

"Call me when you're ready to wash that off," he managed to say with a waggle of his eyebrows before acknowledging his ex-wife and still editor.

Castle kept his eyes on the crowd as Gina practically chewed his ear off, lecturing him as always about deadlines, digging for information about his new book and his apparently obvious and crippling level of writer's block. Something about tonight, about this crowd felt different. The air held a static charge like it knew something big was about to happen.

But there was nothing different. The same people, the same question, the same giggling statements of adoration toward him and his books. No, Castle shook his head back to the present, and focused on the conversation at hand, nothing was going to change. There would be no spark, no lightening bolt of inspiration. There was just him, his devil of an ex-wife next to him in a slinky gold Carolina Herrera dress that clung to her like a second skin, and a new murderous impulse toward his mother for tattling on him and his lack of writing. He deflated as Gina stormed off in a huff from where they had ended up near the bar, his hand running through his hair making it stand on end. Suddenly not even the twittering twenty-somethings waving at him from the corner held any appeal.

"Do you know why I killed off Derrick Storm?" Castle asked his fifteen year-old daughter as he leaned against the bar, new champagne flute in hand.

Alexis shook her head in reply, appeasing, though she let out a small snort, perturbed by being drawn away from her stack of homework laid out on the bartop in front of her.

"Nothing surprised me. There was no more mystery. I knew what was going to happen every scene. Just like these parties. Just for once I want someone to come up to me and say something different."

Sighing Castle was about to suggest to the teenager that they grab a bottle of champagne and make a break for it when he heard his name sound, very formally, from a woman's lips behind him. Steeling himself, Castle turned, speaking as he twirled, brandishing the pen he had stolen from Alexis' book with a flourish. He may no longer be in the mood to fall into bed with one of his autographed fans, or to listen to their repetitive questions, but this was still his job after all. "Where would you like it?"

He barely heard her reply, any further comment dying on his rapidly drying tongue. It had been two years. Her hair was shorter, darker, her face slightly fuller, but he would recognize those eyes, those lips anywhere. She was here, making his heart race, and his palms sweat as she held a badge in front of his face introducing herself, expression like steel, like they had never fallen into bed together for three rounds of mind-blowing sex.

"Kate, hi."

The words were off his tongue, past his lips before his brain had processed the rest of what she had been stating.

_NYPD. Murder. What? _

* * *

Castle squirmed in the chair of the 12th Precinct interrogation room. One way mirror behind him, hands clasped on the rickety metal table before of him. She was a _cop. _Kate, the siren who had seduced him with an olive two years ago in a random encounter in L.A., was a New York City Detective. That was… fantastic! He felt like a child who was being made to sit in front of his presents on Christmas morning, but not open them. Look, don't touch. The entire situation was completely surreal. He had barely managed to splutter out a couple words of reassurance to his daughter and mother, and to tell Gina _not _to call his lawyer, as Detective Kate Beckett had led him out of his own book launch party. Thankfully she hadn't handcuffed him even though that would have been kind of hot and probably good for publicity.

He was pulled back to the present as the object of his musings pushed open the door to the interrogation room, her head down as she calmly studied the file open in her hands. Craning his neck, Castle was torn between his curiosity about the contents of the file and taking his time to admire the woman standing before him. It was different this time, a couple years later, and without the haze of alcohol to cloud his brain. In the end the file lost out to the woman holding it. She chose that moment to look up, catching his gaze on her and quirked a single eyebrow in response.

"Mr. Castle... You've got quite the rap sheet for a bestselling author. Disorderly conduct, uh, resisting arrest," She walked over to the table as she spoke, her steps deliberately slow.

He eyed her smugly for a moment waiting for the detached cop act to drop. When it didn't, he straightened in his chair, lips lifting in a disarming smile, answering with a shrug. If she wanted to play it like they had never even seen each other before, he could too. "Boys will be boys. You know, when we first met I never would have pegged you for a cop."

She rolled her eyes at that, and he couldn't keep his smile from widening. At least he was getting to her.

"Says here that you stole a police horse?"

"Borrowed."

He let out an internal eye roll of his own. He had told them deliberately to write that in the report. _Borrowed. _Not stole. He wasn't _that _stupid, even after a fifth of scotch. That had been after he had broken up with Meredith.

"Ah." Kate nodded, placating, like that made everything better. "And you were nude at the time?"

"It was spring."

At least his alcohol-induced, post-divorce choices were getting better. Naked with Kate Beckett had been one thousand times more satisfying than naked on a horse, and caused far less chaffing on his more sensitive parts. But he digressed. Pulling his attention back to the conversation at hand, he decided to up his game, just as Beckett slapped the file, his apparently, down on the table, her nonchalant posture suddenly replaced by that of a hard-nosed cop.

"And every time the charges were dropped."

He shrugged. He had done nothing wrong, hell, he didn't even know why he was here. He had no reason to be intimidated, so he continued with his own agenda. "The mayor is a friend. In fact I have a lot of friends, Detective. All over the world. New York, London, Japan, L.A.… Do you like L.A., Detective?"

"I, um… no."

Castle smirked as her cheeks flushed crimson, completely thrown by the question. But her denial wasn't stopping him.

"Really? It's a very cool city, in my opinion, you can meet some very interesting people there. Just imagine, you're at a party, then all of a sudden you're next to George Clooney. More than detached than New York, though. Harder to meet people at random. Here you can just run into someone you, say, slept with on the subway. Makes for a nice awkward commute, but in L.A. that really doesn't happen, everyone is lost in their own bubbles. Makes disappearing very easy. You could hook up with someone once and then just disappear into the ether, never even worry about seeing each other again."

Her expression had turned to one of utter confusion as she sat across the table from him, brow furrowed, jaw slack, lips tilted.

"I, I'm…" She finally stated, hands folding on top of the folder as she schooled her expression. "Do I need to have you drug tested?"

"No, no sorry." That reaction had been particularly underwhelming.

"Okay, then," Kate replied, opening the folder and slapping a picture down in front of him. "Allison Tisdale."

"She's cute."

"She's dead. So let me ask you, is she one of those random girls on the subway, Mr. Castle?"

Well, this was a second date he definitely would never forget. But one thing was sure, Kate Beckett had proven herself to be more than just a pretty face. He looked up into those intense green-hazel eyes and he knew, there was nothing random about this one.

* * *

Kate's fist clenched as she paced back and forth outside the interrogation room. He. He. He was… insufferable! Part of her wished he didn't have alibis for each of the murders. She wanted to make him squirm, because right now she was the only one feeling interrogated. The entire time she had been questioning him he had been going completely off topic, asking her how she was doing. He didn't know she was a cop. Did she like LA? He had been acting like they were on a date. Like she would ever date someone like him. The arrogant son of a bitch. He had even pegged her for a fan. And then, _then, _he had had the audacity to actually ask for a copy of the crime scene photos.

With a final exasperated growl she stormed over to her desk, but he was still there, crawling under her skin with his pithy verbal banter and impish grin.

It was so weird, the familiarity he had shown toward her, acting like they knew each other. Yes, technically they had met once before, but there was no way he would remember that, she had been one young female face lost among a sea of others. A handful of words had been exchanged between them. This was a different level of recognition, one that tugged at her gut and told her there was a larger mystery to solve.

But no, there was no mystery to solve. She was never going to see the man again. The elevator pinged and Kate turned to see Detective Javier Esposito exit into the bullpen.

"Has our _friend _made it safely out of the building?"

"Yes, ma'am, I deposited him in the lobby as instructed."

Kate gave a brusque nod, turning to the stack of reports littering her desk, but she took pause, focusing back on the other detective when he failed to move from his spot loitering by her desk.

"Is there something bothering you, Esposito?"

"It's just…" the detective stuttered before trailing off as he shifted uncomfortably in place.

"Out with it," Beckett demanded back. She did not have the time or the patience for this tonight, even from her friend.

"Okay, so, I was watching the interrogation," Javier started, slipping down into the tattered brownish-green chair beside her desk. "And I couldn't help but wonder. Do you two know each other?"

Kate sighed, reaching for the long-cold mug of coffee on her desk, grimacing as she swallowed a swig. God, that stuff was wretched. "No, Espo, we don't know each other. He was just being… weird."

"Okay… cool…"

Kate let slip an eye roll when Esposito still didn't move from his spot, his index finger swirling a paper clip around in random patterns on her desk.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, god. Trust me, I've never met the man before in my life." The statement came out as an exasperated shout, drawing attention from the few detectives and uniforms unfortunate enough to still be puttering around the bullpen at the late hour.

"Okay, fine, but he seems to at least think he knows you."

Kate bit the inside of her cheek as her eyes focused in on the file, her pen tapping a rhythmless beat on the desk.

"Okay, well, I'm out," Esposito continued when she failed to respond. "Go home, get some sleep in your own bed for once, will ya? If I come in tomorrow and find you sacked out on the break room couch again I'm gonna be pissed."

"Yeah, yeah," Kate replied, finally lifting her head to grace him with a tired smile. "I'm headed out in a few."

With a final nod, Espo gathered his keys and wallet from his desk and strolled across the bullpen and out of sight. Kate had spent enough time with the ex-army ranger turned detective to know that he would shed the job like a second skin when he walked through those doors, leaving it all behind to live his life not thinking about the underbelly of human nature they were forced to deal with everyday. She envied that quality in him, the way he could separate himself from his work, how it wasn't a part of him like it was for her. He had told her once over beers at their favorite dive of a cop bar that he had learned it in the Army. He had to or else it would have driven him mad. Some days Kate felt like she was going mad- one day one of these cases would reach up and swallow her whole. But she was there for a reason, to find justice, and until that happened she would tread water for dear life.

Shaking her head she pushed herself back from her desk. What she needed now was a glass of wine and a good book, preferably one not written by Richard Castle. The man was insufferable with his quick quips and childish curiosity. Kate shoved a file into her bag, pages crinkling with the undue force. Not to mention how he had been flirting with her, like it was all a game to him. This wasn't a movie; this wasn't one of his books.

This was real life and people were dead.

* * *

A/N: Thank you all so much, I am blown away by the response to this story so far. Also thank you, always, to KC and Angie for their everlasting awesomeness.


	3. As I Want You To Be

Chapter 3- As I Want You To Be

March 2009

Rick let out a pained groan as he shut the door to his Manhattan loft behind him, the drunken tones of his mother's rendition of _Oklahoma!'s _"I Cain't Say No" assaulting his ears. While his mother did have a decidedly good voice when she was on a Broadway stage, her pitch tended to drift toward a little less perfect with every glass of wine she imbibed during her off hours. But not even show tunes and Burt, his mother's gentleman caller she had picked up at the party, could tread on his mood tonight.

Thankfully Burt was gone by the time Rick had returned from shooing his fifteen-year-old, who had still been awake dutifully studying after midnight on a weekend, to bed. With a glass of water in one hand, he plopped down on the couch next to his mother, who was still nursing her latest glass of merlot.

"So, kiddo, you want to tell me what that little stunt at your launch party was all about?" Martha asked when Castle failed to do anything other than tug at the collar of his shirt, unbuttoning one more button.

He couldn't help the smile that blossomed over his face. "Apparently someone has been killing people like I did in my books. NYPD asked me in to consult."

"Well, you don't have to look so happy about it."

Castle did his best to look properly chastised, wiping the grin from his face only to have it creep back up at his next thought.

"I found her."

"Who? The body?"

"No, the woman, Kate, the one from the launch party in LA two years ago. I found her."

"Here?" Martha leaned forward at his words.

She had been told all about that night in the weeks following his trip, his words flowing with the help of a good portion of a bottle of scotch. The mysterious woman he had fallen for over the course of a few hours, only to wake up to an empty hotel room and cold pillow.

"Yeah." His eyes focused in on the bookshelf on the other side of the room, a thin divider between the living space and his office. His smile softened. "That was her at the party. Her hair was shorter, darker, but it was her. I'm sure of it. Kate Beckett, detective."

"Well?" Martha prompted when he fell silent, staring off into space. "What did she say?"

"Nothing. Well, not _nothing_. She asked me about the case, the murders, about my fan mail. She knew my books, Mother; she's a fan. And she is so much more than I had realized, full of this fierce determination."

"But she didn't say anything about that night?"

"No, she acted like it had never happened."

"And you're sure it was her?"

"Positive."

"You did say there was quite a lot of alcohol flowing, maybe she honestly doesn't remember."

Castle turned to meet his mother's glassy eye, the reality dawning on him. She was right, Kate might not remember what had happened in LA, after all it had been a chance encounter in a different city. But the odds of them meeting again, here, where they both lived years later were too infinitesimal to ignore. It was fate.

"Then I'll just have to help her remember."

* * *

"Well, I guess this is it," Beckett stated, as she stood before him on the sidewalk, mood set by the flickering red and blue lights of the police cruisers.

"It doesn't have to be. We could go to dinner, debrief each other," He replied, half joking, half hoping it would spark something inside of her, a forgotten memory. She hadn't even hinted at remembering their encounter, instead opting for pained looks and cute, annoyed sighs. But the end was nearing and he was running out of time.

"Why, Castle? So I can be just another one of your conquests?"

The way 'conquests' played on her tongue caught his attention. Is that was this was about? She was mad about being a one-night stand, didn't want a repeat? Well that was her own fault, wasn't it? He wasn't the one who left in the middle of the night.

"Or I could be one of yours."

She just smiled, small, tinged with sadness, gone as quickly as it came. That hadn't been the right answer.

"It was nice to meet you, Castle."

He looked at her outstretched hand, such a formal parting.

"It's too bad. It would've been great." It would have been again— without the haze of alcohol and recent heartbreak between them. Yes, it could have been.

She shifted forward, her lip caught between her teeth as she leaned into him, her lips to his ear, his heart racing, palms covered in a sheen of sweat. "You have no idea."

Castle was in awe as he watched Detective Kate Beckett saunter away from him. The case was over, done, closed. Allison Tisdale's brother had murdered her and then killed two random people to cover it up. All for money and a petty sense of revenge. But that was how it always went, wasn't it?

He could still feel her warm breath on his ear, from where she leaned up to whisper her final parting words.

But he did have an idea, too good of an idea. That look she gave him as she turned and walked away— the teasing hint of a smile, the impish glint in her eye. She knew exactly what she was doing to him— that was a look he would never forget. The subtle scent of vanilla lingered, swirling with a hint of sweat and coffee. Intoxicating.

There was no way he could walk away now, because he could no longer believe that she had truly forgotten. Something was going on, there was a reason she was acting this way. A story. Maybe it had to do with that look in her eye, the way her face fell when he had pegged her reasons for becoming a cop. He had to find out what it was, but first his fingers were itching, willing him to write for the first time in the better part of a year.

There was something about Kate Beckett. He couldn't let her get away again.

* * *

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" The words hissed out of her mouth, fist grabbing his sleeve as she dragged him out of the captain's office and across the bullpen to the relative privacy of the break room.

He shrugged in reply, a cocky grin playing on his lips. He could almost see the smoke billowing from her ears. She was cute when she was mad. He wasn't letting go this time, so he had done the one thing he could think to do. He had pulled out his phone and called in a favor to his old friend, the mayor. The mayor had then called the police commissioner, who had called Captain Montgomery, and voila, Rick Castle had his very own open-ended ride along with Detective Kate Beckett. One way or another, he would make her remember. It didn't hurt that she was the best inspiration he had found for writing in, well, ever. She was intriguing, a mystery in and of herself.

"What? Is this some sort of game to you? Harass the cop lady until she falls into bed with you, because I can tell you right now that it isn't going to work. Not now, not ever."

He studied her, eyes flitting across her body, taking in her stance- how her arms crossed over her chest, two fingers tapping a staccato beat into her biceps. Pink tinged the top of her ears; jaw clenching.

Her eyes lost their steel as his silence prolonged, flickered with confusion and a hint of panic as he stepped closer to her into her personal space. Her breath came in short bursts as he leaned in close to her ear, mirroring her move from the day before. "I think we both know that's not true."

With that he turned and walked out the break room door, not bothering to turn around to see her expression. He knew it already- staring after him- eyes wide, jaw slack, arms hanging limply at her sides. Oh yes, he already knew Kate Beckett, and he knew this was going to be a whole lot of fun.

* * *

Lanie Parish watched silently, lips curved in an amused smile, legs dangling off the edge of the metal examination table as she watched her friend attempt to pace a hole in the morgue floor. The last thing she had expected when she called Kate to see if she wanted to meet up for an after work drink was for the woman to push through the morgue doors only minutes later, red cheeks puffing. From the cold or from exasperation, she wasn't sure. But she could probably make an educated guess.

"He's an arrogant, self-centered Jackass! I can't believe Captain Montgomery of all people is actually making me work with him. He's going to get himself killed. He's going to get me killed. Unless I kill him first... What?"

Kate paused in her pacing, her heels clicking one last time on the sterile tile floor when she caught sight of the knowing smirk playing across her friend's lips.

"Girl, you got it bad." Lanie replied, enjoying how her friend's eyes doubled in size, her jaw working silently as she searched for her response.

"No, Lanie. No. Nuh-uh. Never. That is not what this is about. I don't have a thing for him. This isn't like Billy Jenkins pulling on my pigtails in the third grade, this is him being an asshole and trying to get under my skin."

"Well, in that case it looks like he's succeeding."

The medical examiner quirked an eyebrow from her position perched on one of the clean exam tables watching as her friend resumed her pacing in front of her.

Kate pegged her with an incredulous look. "What? How? Lanie!"

"What do you mean 'what'? Look at you. You haven't ranted this much about a man since I've known you. This writer has definitely gotten to you."

"Has not," Kate retorted petulantly, arms crossing over her chest.

"Has too. Girl, do us all a favor and go get you some of that. Lord knows you need it."

Kate threw her hands up in the air. "Lanie!"

"What? Did you think I hadn't noticed, that we _all _hadn't noticed? Hell, the boys have a pool going."

"They do not."

"You wanna bet?" Lanie jumped down from the table, propping one hand on a curvy hip as she stared down her best friend.

"It, they, it's, none of their business," Kate stuttered, crimson creeping up her neck and cheeks, her arms tucking protectively across her chest as she shifted from foot to foot.

"Kate. Just think about it okay? No one would blame you or look down on you for having a little fun. You work hard, you deserve to play some too." With a final wink Lanie was headed toward the door, pulling her coat on over her pink scrubs. "Now come on, if we hurry we can make happy hour."

Kate let out a receptive hum, muttering, as she followed her friend out the door. "After this I could definitely use a margarita, or two."

* * *

Kate eyed the coffee cup on her desk warily as she sat down the next morning, the man lounging lazily in the faded brown chair beside her desk greeting her with a silent tilt of his own cup.

"Morning," she stated as she slid into her seat. She could at least be civil. The bottle of Advil called to her from her bottom desk drawer. Next time she would have to make sure to not let Lanie talk her into that second round, let alone the third.

"Good morning, Detective. I hope you had a good evening. I brought you coffee," Castle answered with a smile as he nodded to the cup sitting in front of her.

Rolling the chair up to the desk, she forced herself to not reach for the cup, as alluring as it was. The heavenly aroma wafted up, teasing her olfactory senses, making her mouth water and her brain cry out in want for the drug— the taste of it as the flavor of the first sip burst open on her tongue, the feel of the hot liquid burning down her throat, coating her stomach, warming her from the inside out. But she wouldn't, not too quickly anyway.

"I did and, um, thanks." Her hands wrapped around the cup, and she managed to hold in the relieved hum thrumming up though her core. Just the very scent of it calmed her frayed nerves and the lingering throb in her temple like a balm. She really might need to start thinking about a twelve-step program for coffee addicts. Taking a sip, she allowed herself a moment to smile, relaxing back into her chair as she savored the still-hot beverage. "So, what are you doing here so early, anyway? I'm guessing all of your paperwork isn't ready to go yet. This is the government after all, they aren't exactly known for their expedient processing times."

"Alas no, I am not here to start my shadowing yet. I simply stopped by to bring you coffee."

Wow, that was actually surprisingly sweet. Kate's suspicions started to rise along with her eyebrow.

"And, well, I kind of hooked up with this chorus girl last night and I had to be out of her apartment before she woke up to avoid that awkward morning after chatter, and Alexis and my mother won't be out of the house yet, and I really don't feel like doing the walk of shame again, so I just thought I would stop by here in the meantime."

And now the sweetness was gone.

She didn't even try to suppress the eye roll this time. "I see. Well I have a lot of paperwork to do, and I don't want to bore you, so…"

"So…"

"Really, Castle?"

"What? No. Don't make me go home yet," Castle replied, the whine practically oozing out of his pores.

Kate's eyes made another round. "I'm busy, Castle. And I have no legal obligation to put up with you yet, so I would suggest you leave before I cuff you and throw you back down in holding, although I'm sure you would love that, you know, for research purposes and all."

Castle placed his coffee on the desk with a light thud, leaning over into her personal space, voice low, eyes sparking. "You really do love the idea of putting me in handcuffs, don't you? I'll make a mental note for next time."

"Castle!" Her reply came out in a hiss.

"Well, don't worry. You won't have to deal with me for the next couple weeks. My publicist has me set up for a whirlwind, ten-day book tour. Boston, Atlanta, DC, Chicago, Seattle, Dallas, San Francisco, LA…Travel a lot, Detective?"

"Not really," Kate answered with a shrug, head bent over a document, willing her brain to process the words, numbers and symbols on the page. It shouldn't be this hard to read, she had been doing it since she was four. "Not recently anyway."

"Really? You seem like someone who would like to see the world, have new experiences."

Kate sighed. She really was not in the mood for this. "I'm a Manhattan girl. I work here; I live here. I don't have that much time to get away."

"I see…"

Her eyes narrowed at the contemplative tone in his voice, and the page fell, forgotten to her desk as she turned her chair to face him head on. "Why the twenty questions about global exploration?"

Castle shrugged in reply, lifting his drink to his lips. "No reason, just curious. Writer."

She could feel his eyes on her still as she turned back to her work, willing him to either leave or at least stay quiet.

"You know, you could come with me. I'm sure I could talk your captain into giving you a little time off. We could check out Napa." He suggested, eyebrows wiggling. Her eyes shot over to him in shock as he smiled back at her.

"Really, Castle? You come here bragging about some random woman you hooked up with and then ask me to accompany you on a romantic book tour getaway?" She replied, once again pushing her work to the side. With a sigh she brought two fingers up, pinching the bridge of her nose. She should never have said what she had the other day, leading him on. "I think I know what this is about and I'm sorry if you got the wrong impression before but this, whatever this is, has to stop. Nothing more is going to happen between us, especially now that we're working together. Got it? So can we call it a truce on the getaway invitations and flirting and agree to just be friends? Make life easier on both of us since I'm being forced to work with you and you'd rather I not shoot you?"

Castle stared at her for a second, considering her words thoughtfully before he finally acquiesced with a nod.

"Sure. I can do friends. For now."

"Castle!" She admonished at his addendum.

"Well, I guess I should be going. Detective, have a pleasant day. I'll see you soon."

Kate watched as the writer pushed out of the chair with an easy smile on his face and rounded the desk, exiting the bullpen without a glance back. Her eyes narrowed at his back, mind whirling. If she didn't know better, she could have sworn she had seen a hint of disappointment in his eyes.

* * *

Castle shuffled out of the precinct, shoulders hunched, hands shoved in his pockets. Stupid. Of course he shouldn't have started bragging about sleeping with some other random woman. Not that he actually had. But she was there, staring at him, completely at a loss as to why he would just show up at 7am with a cup of coffee for her, and he had panicked, shooting off his mouth with the first explanation he could come up with. Saying he wanted to do something nice for her would have been too easy.

No, not easy, hard. It was way too hard. So he had lied, tried to make himself look completely cool and nonchalant, and it had backfired. Epically. He had now officially been "friend-zoned".

_Smooth move there, Ricky. Next the two of you will be sipping cosmos and getting matching mani-pedis_.

He threw his cup of now-cold coffee into a trash bin with a little more force than necessary before plopping down on a random bench in the park.

His normal boyish charm and wit weren't working this time.

Collapsing back, Castle watched as a little boy flipped a penny into the fountain, his eyes screwed shut as chubby fingers fumbled with the coin, lips moving silently with his wish.

Of course they weren't working, not with her, because she wasn't most women. She was Kate Beckett. She needed something different, something more. But he had never been good at "more". More was hard; it was messy. More had strings, consequences and expectations. The few times he had done "more" in the past, it had always ended badly, with his heart broken.

Gravel scuffed under his shoe as he sat with his hands shoved in the pockets of his grey winter coat. His eyes wandered away from the fountain, following the little boy as he went to pick a flower from a bush along the walk, and present it shyly to a little girl with bouncing brown curls. The girl accepted it with a giggle before running off to show it to her mother.

He had never been good at "more", but he could learn. And, until then, he could be friends.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for all the lovely notes and pom poms, I hope you all continue to enjoy. Things should definitely start to get very interesting very soon...

Thank you, as always to KC for the hardcore editing. Note the margarita shout out in this chapter.

Until next time.


	4. As A Friend

Chapter Four- As a Friend

October 2009

It was fashion week in New York and Kate Beckett was noticeably distracted. In the months Rick Castle had been shadowing her, he had rarely seen her be less than the consummate professional, not when working a murder anyway. And even then she had started to soften toward him. Gracing him with a wry joke here and there, even engaging in the verbal banter that had come naturally to them. But there had been two times he had seen her this far off kilter.

The first had been when she had finally opened up to him about her mother's murder, how Johanna Beckett had been stabbed and left in an alley. How the police had never found her killer— the reason Beckett had become a cop. He could still see it. A lock of short brown hair had fallen to shield her face as she looked down at the ring, housed on the necklace that lived around her neck. He had yearned to reach out, brush the curtain and whatever tears it sheltered from his sight out of the way.

Then the second was a couple months later when he had made the mistake of investigating Johanna's death behind her daughter's back. There had been no hiding, no tears, that time. The look on her face— it had started in her eyes, spreading to her brow, her lips, the crimson tinge on the tops of her ears. He never wanted to be the cause of that look again. It was one of complete disappointment and betrayal. He had almost lost Kate Beckett then for a second time. Luckily she had forgiven him, eventually.

She was still slow to allow him to see anything past the barrier of brick and mortar she had erected between herself and the rest of the world, rarely stating anything personal about herself or her parents. He had been edging in gently but had learned not to play with dynamite. They were still on shaky ground after his gaff with Johanna's case.

But now, here they were, and Beckett seemed to be more interested in watching the live models than investigating the murder of their dead one, and his curiosity and writer's imagination were getting the better of him.

"Is there something you want to tell me?"

"Hmm?" Beckett turned to him, her eyes trailing behind, still trained on a group of women gathered in one corner of the staging area.

"Well, I just assumed that you were completely straight, because, well, you know, look at you, but if you swing both ways, I would totally be okay with that too." He punctuated the statement with a wiggle of his eyebrows, an attempt to cover up the sinking feeling in his gut that maybe he and Kate Beckett really would never be more than a drunken dalliance.

She replied with a soft laugh, shaking her head, causing her light brown hair, which she had recently dyed and begun to grow out, to bounce around her shoulders. The lighter color made her look more like the Kate he had met in Los Angeles. Part of him couldn't help but wonder if he was the reason for the sudden change.

"First of all," she started, bumping her shoulder into him as they continued through the crowd. "I take the comment about me 'looking straight' as an offense to lesbians and straight women everywhere, and second of all, Castle, I am definitely straight. Everybody knows college doesn't count."

Castle's eyebrow rose impossibly higher at the implication of her last words, the tension in his stomach unraveling. "I sense a story there, Detective. Do tell. Pretty please with a cherry on top. Or would that be two cherries?"

Her jaw dropped as her eyes made a patented Beckett roll. "In your dreams, Castle. And as for the models, I was just seeing if anything looks suspicious."

"Uh huh," Castle replied, his eyes scrutinizing the back of her head as her gaze wandered once more. She may not be checking the women out for their... assets, but she was definitely holding something back.

"So, what about you, Beckett, you ever think about delving into the unforgiving world of modeling? You definitely have the height and look for it."

"And have to give up Remy's burgers? Please."

"Really? Never?"

Kate sighed. He knew that sigh. He was getting to her. "I _was_ recruited once in high school but it wasn't for me. I was never that good at being told what to do and blindly following direction. I did a couple of shoots and that was it. Did make for a good paying summer job, though."

"Good." He nodded. Normally he would find the idea of a model hot, hell he had been thoroughly enjoying working this case if only for the view, but Kate Beckett deserved more than this world.

"Really, Castle? After six months of your comments and innuendo, I would have thought you would find the idea of me walking down the runway in strappy heels and lacy lingerie a dream come true."

"Well, I don't find it unappealing, and yes, that combination has been the star of a couple dreams..."

Castle!"

"You brought it up!"

He could hear the whine in his own voice and silently he cheered as she shook her head, a small smile playing at her lips. Her attention fully focused on him instead of the women surrounding them and whatever she was looking for.

"Come on, Castle let's get out of here. Looking at all these emaciated women is making me hungry."

Castle nodded, allowing the change of topic without hesitation. He had learned quickly not to push Kate Beckett. It had been a couple months since she had accepted his apology from his last overstep and he had reclaimed his worn brown seat beside her desk, but he could still hear her silence and see the eerie clarity in her eye. The words were low off of her lips, no threats, no yelling, just calm.

_Don't you ever come near me again. _

He had complied and taken a silent vow to himself to never cross that line a second time. So, he would wait, and she would tell him when she was ready. He had faith in that, because whether she wanted to admit it or not, Kate Beckett had started to let him in.

* * *

It was stupid. So stupid. And yet Kate couldn't take her eyes off the models, searching every brown head, every gaunt face, looking for the one identical to hers. After six years of silence it was painfully obvious Grace didn't want anything to do with her, or their father, but still she looked. Grace was her family, her sister, her twin, and there was a weird cosmic connection between them that Kate couldn't bring herself to sever. Not yet.

Still, after so many years apart, every once in a while she would wake up in the middle of the night starving even after going to bed stuffed full of her favorite foods, and she couldn't help but wonder about the last time Grace had eaten. Other days she would wake up with a pounding headache and try to imagine how many martinis her sister had had for dinner the night before.

The martini had always been Grace's drink of choice, even when they were sixteen and Kate was chugging beer with the guys and kicking her legs up for keg stands, Grace would be mixing cocktails with her prim posse. She had always been the more glamorous of the two, more poised, proper. Grace had been the one to spend two hours in front of the mirror before school, making sure her hair and makeup were perfect, while Kate would roll out of bed five minutes before they had to leave, pull on a worn pair of jeans, Grateful Dead t-shirt and her favorite boots before running out the door.

It was amazing how two people with the same genetic makeup could be so universally different. But still the connection was there, so real, so tangible. Once, at a crime scene a year before, she had felt a pain like a dagger in her chest. It had been strong enough to knock her off balance, causing Esposito to reach out and catch her before she fell. It was a feeling she had felt once before in high school and Kate knew her sister had had her heart broken.

Here, now, she could feel it. Grace was there, somewhere in the sea of overly made up faces and fried hair, her sister had come home.

Kate laughed to herself, earning a sideways glance from the writer attempting to be inconspicuous beside her. This was ridiculous. She didn't even know what she would do if she came face to face with her sister after all these years. Even if she really was in the city, Grace had made it perfectly clear she never wanted to see Kate again.

None of them had handled Johanna's death with the grace the Beckett matriarch would have wanted. Jim had gotten lost in the bottle, Kate had fallen into her work and her obsessive desire for justice, and Grace had simply disappeared.

In the beginning Kate had thought she would come around. So she called every week, forced to leave a voicemail after the incessant ringing followed by a beep. Then the weeks turned into months and then to years, and she hadn't heard a peep in return. Their birthday was approaching in just over a month and Kate was already dreading those few second of anticipation and hope followed by the heartbreaking beep. But this was it; this was the year. They were turning 30, and this was the last time. They weren't children anymore and they would no longer be twenty-something's "in search of themselves". It was time to let go.

"You know, if you want to talk about it..."

Kate's eyes focused in on the white paper coffee cup that had magically appeared in front of her face, and a genuinely grateful smile flirted with her lips. She sighed as she reached out to accept the drink.

Somehow she had completely missed their entire walk from the depths of backstage to the lobby of the hall where they were currently stopped in front of the coffee cart.

She should probably tell him, he would find out eventually anyway. "It's a long story, Castle."

He perked up at that, and Beckett couldn't help it as her smile grew. He did have the uncanny ability to look like a curious puppy.

"I like long stories, it's why I chose novels over limericks and haikus."

"Katie!"

Kate froze, heart threatening to beat a hole in her chest in anticipation as she whipped around, eyes and smile wide, searching for the source of her name. Only her heart and smile faltered as a petite model brushed past her, letting out a squeal of excitement when she was pulled into an enthusiastic embrace by another woman.

"Let's get out of here, Castle," she said, silently berating herself for allowing her hopes up.

"Okay."

She couldn't bear to look at him, already hating the sympathy, which had replaced the curiosity in his voice. Beckett pressed her lips into a thin line as the bittersweet of the coffee washed over her tongue. The weight of her badge and gun, hidden under her jacket, tugged at her hip.

It would never be okay.

* * *

Grace rested against the brown brick wall, her back shielded from the harsh texture by the white leather of her jacket. She lifted the cup of black coffee to her lips, grimacing as the hot bitter liquid assaulted her taste buds. It was useless. The taste would never be less than abominable. Everyday for the past two years she had sipped the bold liquid hoping that today would be the day she would magically like it. 728 days later she was still waiting for that miracle.

The cup dropped to her side, hanging loosely from her fingertips as she stared at the building across the street. The 12th Precinct loomed over her, not that she had any intention of actually going in. Quite the opposite in fact, she didn't even know why she was here. Her mind wandered as she watched the uniform-clad officers hurry in and out the doors, some serious, others laughing, some leading perps in handcuffs in front of them. Despite herself, she searched every single face for one she recognized.

Lifting the coffee to her lips unconsciously, she spluttered when she took another sip. Her head lolled back against the wall. She really should just drop the habit altogether. The thought of real cream and sugar was sacrilege in her profession and their nutritionist, or den mother, as they called her, did not condone any form of artificial flavorings. This left the models with black coffee as their only source to satisfy their caffeine frenzy. And, unfortunately, running on little sleep and limited caloric intake, caffeine was a necessity.

With a sigh she pushed herself off the building and tossed the still half-full cup into a nearby trash bin. She really needed to leave. There was no reason for her to be here. She dreaded the idea of running into Kate and the longer she stayed, the higher the chances she would be spotted. Sparing the building one more glance, Grace turned to walk back down the road toward the convention hall, her meaningful strides showing more confidence than she felt.

_Modern Fashion_ had offered her a permanent position in New York. It was a dream come true for any model, especially one who was inching closer and closer to her expiration date and therefore expulsion from the glossy pages of the magazine. Luckily she had been gifted with a "classic look" the photographers fawned over. But that would buy her a couple more years at most in the spotlight. A position behind the scenes was a dream come true, the only hope for a washed up model with nothing beyond a high school education. It was either that or a Hail Mary for a reality show in Japan.

But accepting the position meant moving back to New York, and that was impossible. She had tried to negotiate Los Angeles or Milan. Paris. Tokyo. Anywhere else. But Matilda King, queen of the Modern Fashion empire, had been unrelenting. She needed Grace at headquarters in The City or no deal. Part of Grace was flattered. King, a woman she had looked up to for years, wanted to be her mentor, but New York housed the ghosts that haunted her dreams. In the week she had been there they had only gotten worse. The other women had started to look at her, worry painting their expressions as she sat in a daze day after day in front of the mirror.

She was due to go back to Italy in two days time. She had never had a problem sleeping in Tuscany. She already knew she would be asleep the minute the train started to chug and sway through the fields of sunflowers, but until then she might have to break down and buy a couple of Tanya's sleeping pills. The woman was a walking pharmacy: drugs for any occasion.

Her phone vibrated as she turned the corner of the block, and she looked down to read the message. Wedge-clad feet worked on memory, nearing the entrance of the hall, as her fingers flew, typing her reply to Lisette's invitation to a party that night for one of the major designers. Marc Jacobs, Ralph Lauren, Calvin Klein. One of them. It didn't matter. She made a mental note to herself to stop by the corner store for condoms. She needed to lose herself in something, someone.

She pushed through the rotating door, her attention still focused down, smirking at Lisette's crude reply.

"Grace?"

Grace's head shot up at the sound of her name. She knew that voice, but still her eyes grew wide as she took in the face identical to her own.

"Kate!" It seemed almost laughable now that she thought she could spend an entire week in New York City and not accidentally run into her sister, especially when she had heard about that poor model from Teddy Farrow's line. So, of course Kate was standing in front of her in heels that rivaled her own, with badge and gun on her hip, a hesitant smile on her face and Rick Castle at her side.

Wait.

"Rick?"

"Huh?"

The writer's stunned response came slightly delayed. Saucer-round eyes topped by ever-rising brows were complemented by the slow, steady drop of his jaw as his mouth opened to form a perfect "O." Only then did he blink, raising one hand to point first at Kate, then at Grace, then back at Kate.

Grace's mind tilted. Memories of slamming back against a hotel room door, Richard Castle's body pressed against hers, unrelenting as her knees threatened to give out. Drinking champagne from the bottle before he pried it from her fingers, pooling it in her navel, sipping it as her giggles mingled with his own drunken laughter, before he followed the path down.

She was never supposed to see him again, _either _of them. That was the point. Move forward; leave the past behind. But now they were both here. Standing in front of her. With each other. And she had…

_Kate, my name is Kate. _

"Shit."

* * *

A/N: And this is where it gets interesting. As always, thank you all for the kind words and support in reviews, Twitter and Tumblr. I appreciate every single one of you. Thank you to KC for the attention to detail and her diligent use of (not red) ink.


	5. As An Old Enemy

Chapter 5- As An Old Enemy

Kate looked back and forth between her sister and her shadow, taking in the identical look of shock adorning both their faces. Grace's expletive was still hanging in the air between them.

"What's going on here? Have you two met?"

"No."

"Yes."

Kate blanched, the contradicting answers flying at her in tandem.

"Oh… oh. This makes so much more sense now!" Castle exclaimed, his voice climbing an octave as he pointed between the two of them, causing his partner to turn to him, eyes questioning.

"You wish to explain to the rest of the class, Castle?"

"I, she, well, I thought she was you."

Kate pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing as she attempted to stave off the inevitable headache. "Not getting any clearer."

"I should go..."

Beckett looked up to see her sister attempting to slink around the writer. Her confusion was temporarily forgotten as her anger took over.

"Grace."

"No, Kate. Just no."

"No, _you_ don't get to do this," Kate's voice rose with every syllable. "Six years, Grace, and you can't even be face to face with me for sixty seconds? If it weren't for a spread in _Modern Fashion_ every couple months we wouldn't have even known if you were dead or alive."

"Me, Katie? No. _I'm_ not the one most likely to die. _I'm _not the one who decided to become a cop." Grace paused, looking between the two, her words turning the thick air stale. "Oh, by the way. We slept together. Rick and I."

Kate felt the words connect to her gut like a fist. The fight suddenly draining out of her, her body deflating, she turned her attention to Castle who had been watching the entire exchange silently from his spot at her side. Any sliver of her defenses which had started to weaken toward him slammed back into place.

"Yeah, well, you can have him. Maybe he'll actually take you out for a good meal. You look like you could use one."

Grace's jaw clenched. It had been a low blow. The balancing act between staying healthy and fitting in to the modeling world had always been a sore issue for her sister. Kate's breath stalled in her lungs as Grace stepped forward, a cold steel settling in her eyes that Kate knew too well. It was one that was reserved for those who fully stepped across her normally carefree sister's line. Grace's eyes did a slow scan of Kate's utilitarian work outfit before she lifted a couple fingers up to flick a lock of Kate's hair.

"Yeah well, at least I Iook like someone he might want to go out with in the first place." The words were low, for Kate's ears only.

Grace backed away with a smirk until she was lined up next to Castle. It was a game of strategy, one that both sisters knew well. The exact insecurities to poke in order to cause the other to crumble. But it didn't make it any less true, the look of Grace and Castle side by side was perfect, a page six dream come true. Kate's eyes met Castle's as they stared back at her, wide, questioning.

_I thought she was you._

Kate turned slowly, the fury that had been burning in her lungs smoldering into a dull ache as she silently headed out the door, not stopping to see if Castle was following her; she didn't care.

* * *

Kate was halfway down the block before Castle caught up with her. He had been at a loss for words in the lobby, only sparing Grace a quick apology before darting out the door.

"You could have held up. I know you heard me calling after you. How _do_ you walk so fast in those heels?"

Kate whirled around at his attempt at humor, her eyes dark, lips drawn.

"Go home, Castle."

He watched, unmoving until he was able to unglue his feet from the pavement, mind still whirring with the events of the past five minutes, as she continued purposefully toward her cruiser at the end of the block. "Beckett! Kate!"

"Is it true?"

He stopped short when she turned suddenly in front of him.

"What?"

"What Grace said? Did you sleep together?"

"I, um, I think so?"

Beckett let out an incredulous snort. "You're something else, you know that?"

"Kate, no, let me explain."

"Forget it. I don't care," she replied, waving off any explanation as she rounded her car. "Just go home, Castle. And don't bother coming in tomorrow. I can't do this anymore."

"Beckett, wait! Please."

Kate shook her head as she tugged open her door, ducking inside.

Castle watched, shoulders slumped, brain numb as Kate Beckett's NYPD issued sedan pulled out into traffic and raced down the block. His eyes stayed glued to the tan trunk until it disappeared around the corner. With a sigh he turned, a hand running through his hair as he stared back at the revolving door.

The lobby was empty of Becketts when he reentered the building, opting to use one of the single glass doors bracketing the rotating one. Normally he was like a kid when it came to revolving doorways, tempted to go around two or three times. It had driven Gina and Meredith up the wall. Even Alexis had been rolling her eyes at him since the tender age of five for that particular antic. He had resisted earlier when Beckett had pegged him with a glare, like she knew what he was thinking before he even attempted it. Now, his desire for games completely failed him.

His mind was still sorting through the events of the past ten minutes as he approached the skinny college-aged barista at the coffee cart.

"Excuse me, did you happen to see a woman pass by here a couple minutes ago, long brown hair, white leather jacket, gorgeous?"

The young man let out a snort. "You mean the model who was just in a screaming match with her twin? Yeah, I saw her. Man, you got your hands full with those two."

Castle let out a sigh. "Can you just tell me where she went?"

"She came over here, ordered an extra-large full fat mocha and then headed back that way. She's probably puking it up in the ladies. Girl like that, you know."

Castle looked over his shoulder to the corridor the young man indicated.

"Seriously, that was brutal, man. At least guys just punch each other. Girls, they go for the jugular."

"Thanks… man." Castle answered, shoving an extra five-dollar bill in the tip jar before taking off down the hall.

The hall was bursting with people, and Castle craned his neck, standing on his tiptoes as he attempted to see through the sea of glitter, feathers, lace and hair. He said a quick "thanks" up to heaven that he had resisted his mother's attempts to talk him into entering Alexis into a Teeny Tot Beauty Pageant as a child. He scanned every woman for long, light brown hair and a white jacket, a combination which one would think would be easy to spot, but was deceptively difficult, at least in present company.

He was about to give up, go home and sort through his thoughts with the help of a pint of Chunky Monkey, when the door to the restroom on his right swung open and Grace stepped into the hall, coffee cup clutched in her hand.

"Hi," he started, scaring her out of her thoughts as his hand brushed down her arm.

"Rick, Jesus! Hi." Her easy smile was seemingly not phased by the encounter in the lobby.

"Sorry," he laughed out, hands digging safely into the pockets of his jacket as he rocked back on his heels. His gaze flickered between the drink and the small stick figure on the door, his memory flashing back to the barista's words, his own spilling out before he could stop them. "You weren't throwing up in there, were you?"

"Oh, wow. Good to see you too, it's been a while." She punctuated the statement with a very Beckett-like roll of her eyes, before turning down the hall, away from him.

"Sorry, sorry. That was inappropriate," Castle stuttered as he trailed after her. "So, uh, Grace, right? That was you in L.A.?"

Grace stopped in the middle of the hall and Castle skittered to a stop behind her, a case of déjà vu to just moments earlier as she turned. "You're just now figuring this out? Wow, you're not too quick, are you? I figured once Katie looked at you like you were crazy, you might have put two and two together, since she is a _twin_."

"Actually, Kate never mentioned, well, you…"

Grace took another swig of her mocha, the cup hiding her face, but not before Castle caught a glimpse of the hurt expression adorning her features. "Figures. You know, I haven't had real sugar or cream in my coffee for two years. One minute face to face with her and I fall off the wagon. So, you two sleeping together now?"

Castle shook his head, the conversation already giving him verbal whiplash. Beckett's parents must have gone through hell with those two growing up together. "Well, no."

"Good, wouldn't want you to be disappointed." She punctuated the statement with a sly smile and a wink and Castle's eyes widened as her hand slipped into his back pocket, sliding his phone out before punching in a series of digits with deft fingers. "That's my number. I'm only in town for a couple more days. Call me. Maybe we can have a little more _fun_."

Her warm breath washed over his ear as she spoke the last word, her arm reaching back around to slip the phone back into his pocket. He watched, stunned, as she turned and sauntered back down the hall, swigging the coffee as she went.

* * *

"Kiddo!"

"Hey, dad!"

Castle was still scratching his head as he entered his loft, looking up only when two enthusiastic voices greeted him. Alexis lifted her chopping knife in a wave from her position at the counter, while his mother tipped her glass of merlot in his direction before lifting it to her lips.

"Hey."

"Well that doesn't sound good. Case not going well?"

"Case is fine. She's still dead, someone still killed her."

The two redheaded women exchanged a look as Castle rounded the kitchen counter before pausing and turning back to the bar.

"I just had the most surreal experience of my life, and after that incident when I mistook the pill in your purse for an Aspirin and went to Times Square, that's saying something." He stated, punctuating the story with a pointed look at his mother.

Alexis paused her chopping, setting the knife quietly on the edge of the cutting board before turning her attention to him. The base of Martha's wine glass clinked against the granite bar as she raised her eyebrows expectantly.

"Richard, you can't say something like that and then just leave us hanging."

Castle held up a single index finger as he threw back his two fingers of scotch. Tonight was no night for sipping.

"Beckett," he started as the liquid burned its way down his esophagus, warming the walls of his stomach. "Has a twin."

"What?"

He nodded as the word came at him in unison.

"Yeah." He could feel their eyes on him as he poured himself another drink. He wasn't disappointed as he looked back up, bringing this second glass to his lips more slowly. "And it gets better."

He sighed as he slid onto the barstool next to his mother. Alexis leaned across the counter, the beginnings of dinner bubbling on the stove now forgotten.

"Dad?"

"Her name is Grace, she's a model, and except for hairstyles and about a ten pound weight difference they are identical. And I mean _identical._"

"A model? So was she in town for fashion week? Did she come by the station?"

Castle couldn't help but smile as the excitement in his daughter's eyes leaked out in her voice. It hadn't even occurred to Alexis that the reason he hadn't heard about Grace was that she and her sister were estranged. That was one of the things he loved about her- her unfailing ability to see the light in every situation.

"No, sweetie, she didn't. We ran into her after questioning some people at the fashion shows. She and Kate got into it. I'm surprised there wasn't actual hissing. Apparently they don't get along very well, and from what I gathered, they haven't even spoken in six years."

"Oh my word. What happened?"

Castle shrugged. "I honestly don't know. Neither of them was particularly chatty about the topic. But that's not even the worst part."

"Oh, no. Alexis grab the ice cream."

A pint of Chunky Monkey and three spoons plopped onto the counter and Castle watched as the two women dug in, eyes still darting up to him in anticipation.

He directed his next statement at his mother. "Grace was the one in L.A. two years ago, not Kate. She just told me her name was Kate for some reason."

"Eww, Dad! You slept with Beckett's _sister?"_

Castle winced as Alexis connected the dots. Sometimes his daughter really was too smart for her own good.

"Yep." He nodded, frowning as he jabbed his spoon into the brick of Ben &amp; Jerry's.

"How did Katherine take that news?" His mother asked.

Castle grimaced.

"Not well, I take it?" Alexis chimed in, lifting her own spoon to her lips.

"That is the understatement of the year. I've been banned from the precinct. Again."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I don't know. I tried to talk to Grace, and she gave me her number, but it just feels weird now. I can't do that to Beckett. Grace and I definitely… well, there was a spark, but all this time I thought Beckett was Grace and not actually Beckett. And Beckett, Kate, and I were finally starting to make some progress. She was just starting to open up to me again."

"And she never mentioned anything about having a sister? That seems like a huge part of her life to leave out."

Castle looked over at his mother, regarding her insight with a sigh. "No. Nothing. She's talked about her mother and father a couple of times but not a word about Grace. Whatever happened between them couldn't have been good."

Martha lifted her goblet once again to her lips. "Well, I think you know what you have to do."

* * *

The coffee in Castle's hand was cold by the time he knocked on Beckett's door the next morning. He had stopped by the precinct first, only to be met by a "she called in sick" from Montgomery and accusatory looks from Ryan and Esposito.

_"Bro, what's going on? What did you do?" _

_"What do you mean?" _

_"Beckett hasn't called in since, well, ever. Last year half the precinct was out with some nasty stomach flu, Beckett was running to the bathroom every five minutes, and still she refused to leave until the captain ordered her to go home. Yesterday she leaves with you, comes back alone, storms into Montgomery's office and then goes home "sick" not an hour later. So, I ask you again, what the hell happened?" _

_Castle looked at the faces of the three police officers standing around him, arms crossed over their chests— a band of overprotective brothers interrogating their baby sister's prom date. _

_"We ran into Grace." _

_Montgomery's face melted into a knowing look as the two others shared a confused shrug. _

_"Who's Grace?" _

_"Beckett's twin?" Castle replied brow furrowed at the detectives' apparent lack of knowledge. They were her partners. _

_It was Ryan who piped up first after exchanging a puzzled look with Esposito. "Beckett has a twin? Since when?" _

_All three looked at Ryan as the tips of his ears turned crimson. Esposito chastised him with a soft "bro…"_

_"I guess they don't talk much," Castle added with a shrug. _

_"That's the understatement of the century," Montgomery said with a huff. "But what does Grace have to do with Beckett asking me to kick you out of the precinct?" _

_"That's a long story," Castle replied, attempting to laugh. His forced cheerfulness died as arms once again crossed over chests, the three men forming a barrier between him and the door. Esposito's eyes glared straight into his. _

_"We have time." _

Running his free hand through his hair, he took in a cleansing breath before knocking on the solid wood door. Only then, as he listened for movement on the other side of the door, did he allow his eyes to wander. It was a basic building, clean, simple, definitely not on the higher end for Manhattan but not cheap either. That was a story for another time.

His eyes zeroed back in on the peephole as the chain on the door scraped and various locks clicked over.

"What are you doing here, Castle? Aren't you knocking on the wrong Beckett's door?"

Only her face and shoulder showed through the crack as she leaned against the doorjamb, the dark smudges under her eyes telling the story of how she had slept the night before.

"I brought you coffee," he started, holding out the cup as a peace offering. "It needs to be reheated though. I stopped by the precinct before here..."

His rambling trailed off as she continued to stare at him, making no move to take the cup.

"And I owe you an explanation."

It took a moment, Castle holding his breath until the door creaked open and Beckett stepped back in silent invitation even though her expression still said otherwise.

Her apartment surprised him. He had expected stark, utilitarian. Instead it was overflowing with books and knickknacks, a throw blanket strewn haphazardly over the couch.

"It's nice," Castle stated as he stepped over the threshold, his free hand shoved in his pocket.

"Thanks." Her voice was tight, withdrawn.

His eyes wandered to a group of framed photos on the mantel. Jim and Johanna Beckett cuddling two little girls on their laps. Teenaged Grace and Kate side by side, one clad in a cheerleading uniform, the other in a black leather jacket and burgundy lipstick. He could already venture a guess as to who was who. God, he was an idiot. He pulled his attention from the pictures and the warm earth tones decorating her living room back to her as she lifted the coffee from his hand, popping off the top before placing it in the microwave.

"You cut your hair."

"Yeah, some things never change," she replied cryptically as her fingers came up, toying with the ends of the light brown strands that now ended just under her chin.

"It looks good."

"Thanks." She leaned back against the counter, looking at him expectantly, arms crossed over her chest.

"Okay, here's what happened," Castle started as he leaned back against the opposite counter. "Two years ago I was freshly divorced from Gina and in Los Angeles on a book tour. I stopped into a book launch party for my friend Lee. I was feeling down, pretty drunk, and I met this woman: tall, gorgeous. We hit it off, had a couple drinks and went back to my hotel. She told me her name was Kate. When I woke up the next morning she was gone. Then a couple months ago you walk into my launch party and I swear to God, Beckett, I thought she was you."

Her eyes bore into him as the microwave beeped, her fingers tapping on her bicep. "So, let me get this straight. Two years ago you hooked up with my sister, who told you she was me, randomly in L.A. Then I bring you in for questioning across the country, in the city in which we both live, and it seemed plausible to you that we were the same person even though I made no indication that we had ever even met before?"

"More plausible than you having a twin you don't talk about who happened to masquerade as you? Yes."

"Wow, so all this time you've just been trying to get into my, her, pants again, haven't you?"

"Yes, no, I mean at the beginning yes, but not anymore."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?"

"Yes?"

His heart thumped against his rib cage as she looked past him, eyes trained on a random spot over his shoulder.

"You're unbelievable. I should have listened to my gut and had you thrown out the first time you showed up at the precinct." Her voice was rising now, a fire flashing in her eyes.

"Beckett…"

"No. You're really pretty sick; you know that? It was bad enough when I thought you were just following me around for your little research but stalking me for six months so you could get laid? That's beyond disgusting."

Castle's own anger started to flair. "Now that's not fair! I thought you knew."

"Really, Castle? You never _said_ anything."

"I implied… and then I invited you to Napa and you said you knew what it was about!"

Kate pressed a palm to her forehead. "I thought that was because of what I had said to you the day before not because we had… God, Castle!"

"Beckett. Kate."

"I can't do this. You should go."

A thick silence fell between them until the microwave let out a second impatient beep. He let out a sigh when she still failed to move, her hand covering her mouth, eyes trained on a small tile in the corner. Pushing off the counter with a nod he walked out the door.

* * *

Castle took a deep breath as he exited the elevator into the homicide bullpen the next morning. He could feel Ryan and Esposito's eyes on him. He had barely slept the night before, opting instead to stare blankly at the dark ceiling above him as his mind whirred. He should just let it go, just do as she wished, but he couldn't. He couldn't stand the idea that the insufferably frustrating extraordinary creature that was Kate Beckett was mad at him. So, he kept his head down as he strode through the bullpen, making sure not to make eye contact with either of the other detectives.

Beckett didn't even lift her head from the file in front of her when he placed the steaming cup of coffee down, the paper cup meeting the desk with a soft "plunk". Her pen barely missed a beat between scribbles.

He stood awkwardly next to her desk, his own coffee grasped in his palms, not quite sure if he should risk sitting in the chair. He could hear snickering behind him. Shooting Ryan and Esposito a glare he took in a steadying breath and sat.

He could do this.

The seconds ticked by, turning into minutes. Her coffee sat untouched as the pen scribbled away, word after word, line after line. He took a sip of his own. Luckily it was still warm.

Montgomery stuck his head out of his office. The captain took one look at him and Beckett's apparent disinterest and ducked back in to take cover. Smart man.

His own coffee was long gone by the time he let out a resigned sigh. Only when he tossed the empty cup into the plastic, government-issue garbage bin beside her desk did her pen finally still, her attention drifting to the bin before glancing back at the coffee on her desk.

Her lips pursed as she pushed her chair back, her attention focused on Ryan and Esposito. "I'm going to get some coffee, you guys want anything."

Both detectives shook their heads, Beckett heading to the break room with a shrug. The coffee Castle brought sat, ignored on the desk as he stood up, following with a huff, the two other detectives still watching.

"You don't give up, do you?"

The sound of her voice halted him in break room doorway, her eyes still cast down at the ceramic mug on the counter.

"Does that surprise you? You should know better by now, detective." The statement came out with more confidence than he felt.

"Look," he started again hoping the sincerity he felt made it into his words as he stepped further into the room. "I'm very sorry about what happened, especially that I assumed things and hurt you in the process. I can't change the past, I can't unsleep with Grace, but can we start fresh? No games, no miscommunications. I don't know what else I can say."

Castle held his breath as she braced her hands against the counter, hair falling to hide her profile.

"One rule." Her voice sounded again a few seconds later and his lungs loosened as she turned to look at him.

"Name it," Castle replied.

"I don't want to talk about her. I don't want play 20 questions about our relationship. Grace has been gone for 6 years, talking about it isn't going to change anything."

"Well, she's here now."

Beckett shook her head, a small sad smile playing at her lips. "It's not my decision, Castle. I've been here the whole time."

"But..."

"Castle..."

Castle felt his gut sink at the warning in her voice. Grace's number burned its way out of his phone and through his pants pocket, branding his leg. The stipulation was nonnegotiable, but his desire to know the story was almost to the point of overwhelming. "Sure."

"Okay."

The rest of the morning passed without incident, Castle gently needling until he was even able to get Kate to let out an eye roll and quiet smirk with one of his crazy theories. But her request played on repeat in his head, an idea forming.

"You should come over for dinner tonight," he said finally as he slipped on his jacket around noon. His publicist had called to remind him they had a meeting he had conveniently managed to forget about.

"What?"

"Come over. It would give me the chance to apologize properly and I happen to know a certain red-headed sixteen year-old who would be over the moon to see you."

"I don't know, Castle."

"She's been asking about you a lot lately. Wondering when you were going to come over again. She really looks up to you, you know. Come on, please. We'll eat giant banana splits and watch silly movies."

He held his breath, pushing down any feelings of guilt as she studied his face, searching for any indication of an ulterior motive. It would be worth it, using Beckett's soft spot for his daughter to lure her to the loft.

"Okay, fine. I'll be there at 7:30," Beckett finally relented. "But only for Alexis."

"Of course. For Alexis."

His grin stretched from ear to ear as he left the precinct a few minutes later, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

"Hey, it's me. You want to have dinner tonight?"

* * *

A/N: I apologize for the delay but this chapter was a beast and required a little more tlc than anticipated. Thank you for all your lovely flails and support. FYI I will be posting weekly from now on as life has thrown a couple curve balls my way. Thank you, as always, to KC for all the help with this beast of a chapter. It wouldn't have turned out nearly half as well without your ninja beta skills.


	6. Here We Are Now (Entertain Us)

Chapter 6- Here We Are Now (Entertain Us)

"Hey!"

Castle could feel the forced cheerfulness in his tone. He was happy to see her, he always was, but it was only a matter of seconds before that timid smile on her face would fall. The soft look she had tonight clad in jeans, flats, and fuzzy sweater with her hair pulled back in a low tuft of a ponytail, would give way to the hardened cop underneath.

"Hey, Castle," she replied, her tone low as she held out a bottle of cabernet sauvignon. It wasn't as expensive as the ones in his cabinet but not a cheap one from the corner store either. She had good taste. "I didn't know if I should bring anything so I brought this."

"Thanks, I'll never turn down wine and, well, you know my mother."

She peered around him to the empty living room and the kitchen void of bubbling pots and sizzling pans. "Where is everyone? Alexis in her room?"

"Actually…"

"Rick? Why is there a giant alien soldier in your bathroom?"

"What is she doing here?"

Castle caught the bottle of wine, which barely missed him, as Kate swung it around to point at her sister emerging from his bedroom.

"So, there's been a slight change of plans," he smiled as he placed the wine on the table. "Alexis is studying with a friend, Mother is out doing something or someone, and I totally forgot I have to… leave. Take out menus are on the counter. Have fun."

With that, he swiped his jacket from the table, and swung out the door, leaving two women with very identical stunned expressions, in his wake.

* * *

"I should go." Grace mumbled. She looked around the living room for the jacket she knew she had thrown on the sofa when Rick had invited her in a few minutes before. She was such an idiot; she had been so happy when he had called earlier. She had walked right into this.

"Sure. Fine," Kate responded from where she had remained by the door, arms crossed over her chest. "It's what you're best at anyway."

Grace paused, one arm in the jacket she had finally located on the far arm of the couch, and she shook her head with a laugh. "That's right, Katie. I'm the only one with a problem here."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Forget it. I just need to get out of here."

"No." Kate bit out.

Grace sighed as her sister stepped to the side, Kate's chin jutted up in defiance as she blocked the door with her body.

"Kate, just move."

"No. I let you walk out that door once before, and I didn't see you again for six years. I'm not doing it again."

"Fine," Grace relented, pasting a forced smile to her face her own arms crossing her chest, mirroring her sister's posture. "Hi, Kate, it's so great to see you! How have you been? Enjoying your fangirl fantasy of writerboy following you around like a puppy? Does he know you've been obsessed with him since you were a teenager?"

"You're such an ass, you know that?"

"I know you like him, you wouldn't be putting up with him following you around for his little 'research project', if you didn't." Grace paused, enjoying the shocked look on Kate's face. "Oh, don't look so surprised, I read _Cosmo_ too."

Truthfully she hadn't voluntarily picked up that magazine in years. However she had swiped a copy off of another girl's bag that afternoon when she saw Rick's picture on the front. The fact that Kate was the inspiration for his latest character had been a shock.

Grace took a step forward into Kate's personal space, the closest they had been in years. She steeled herself as she caught a whiff of her sister's shampoo, the cherry vanilla scent she had always loved. Part of her wanted to just let the wall drop, and pull Kate into a hug. It was hard not to pick up the phone to boast about the next big job, or sob about the latest man who broke her heart. Sometimes her fingers hovered over the keys as she thought about how she just wanted to come home, to forget everything bad that had ever happened. For so many years it had been the two of them against the world. But she couldn't, she had to be strong, to push away, to stay afloat.

"Just remember this, when you finally do give in and fall into bed with him, because we both know you've thought about it, I'll be there, in his head, the whole time."

Kate simply stared back at her, jaw stiff, defiant, and Grace couldn't help but admit that her sister had the cop face _down_. She didn't flinch, but she did carry all her emotions in her eyes. Grace could read her like a book, and for a moment she regretted being the cause of that level of hurt.

Kate took a step to the side, and another, Grace's eyes following her as she silently walked around her to the living room, plopping down on the couch, leaning forward, elbows on knees, head in hands.

"Kate…"

"You're right. You should go."

Grace felt all the barriers she had erected over the last ten years start to crumble as she listened to her sister's wooden dismissal. She turned to take a step back into the apartment. "Kate, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Rick and I, it was completely random, years ago. I didn't know…"

Kate only let out a laugh in response, shaking her head. "I don't care, Grace. Me and Castle? Please. I don't even like the guy. He's an irritating nine-year-old on a sugar rush. I can't wait until this book thing is over."

Grace took another step forward, standing awkwardly halfway between the door and the couch. "Then why are you here, Katie?"

"What do you mean?" Kate's head tilted up to look at her twin, eyes clouded, weary beyond her twenty-nine years.

The words caught in Grace's throat, she knew that look. The fierce, icy protectiveness Kate had always had around her heart had obviously not melted. So, she held back the obvious answer that Kate was falling for Richard Castle. "I mean you must not totally hate the guy or else you wouldn't have come over for dinner."

Kate shrugged in response. "I came to see Alexis."

Grace nodded, not missing the telling crimson tinge of the tips of Kate's unshielded ears, as she accepted the excuse. "Of course. His kid, right?"

"Yeah, she just turned sixteen. I wanted to give her a birthday present." Kate pulled a small box out of the pocket of her jacket. "It's a charm bracelet, like the ones Mom got us when we turned sixteen..."

Grace's hand automatically went to her wrist to feel the phantom metal, which hadn't rested there in ten years, not since… "I, um, I really should go. I have a party I need to go to."

It was a lie, she had dropped all her plans the minute Rick's call had come through, but she couldn't stay here, not with family traditions being passed on, and memories reemerging. Her world was already starting to quake, causing cinderblock walls to crack. If she remained here for pizza, ice cream and good family fun it might be too enticing to stay, to take the job at _Modern Fashion_ HQ and actually work on reconnecting with her own family. She could see laughter and warmth. But that wouldn't lead to anything good. They had had that once and it ended with blood pooling in an alley. It would happen again. Another day, another alley, a different Beckett, but it would happen. Katie would keep going until the end, until she caught their mother's murderer or until they caught up with her. Grace could already bet on which would happen first. While Kate was strong, relentless, these people, whoever they were, would still win. Kate had ethics, and murderers didn't. Kate would die, doing the right thing, and Grace wouldn't let herself stay around to watch.

"Why did you leave?"

The question cut through the spiral of thoughts, dragging Grace kicking and screaming back to the present. Kate was looking at her from her place on the couch, her voice holding a conviction Grace hadn't expected, eyes boring into her with a strength they had lacked only moments before. Any doubt Grace had held melted away in that moment, her walls slamming back into place. Kate really would never stop.

"Why did I leave?" Grace huffed out a small, disbelieving laugh. "Why do you even have to ask that? Mom was dead, Katie. Mom was dead, Dad was killing himself slowly with booze, and you? You had a death wish."

"Me? What the hell are you talking about?" Kate snapped back as she pushed herself up, walking over to stand toe to toe with her sister. Grace smirked with confidence she didn't feel, grateful for the three inch advantage her spiked heels gave her.

"Forget it…"

"No! No, Grace. You brought it up, so you tell me what the hell you mean."

"September Eleventh, Katie."

* * *

Kate froze, her heart pounding in her chest, mind a blur. What about September Eleventh? She had still been in the academy, and when the call came in just after eight that morning their instructor had given them the option of whether they wanted to volunteer. No single hand hesitated. So she and all her classmates had been thrown into the fray along with every other cop, firefighter and paramedic in The City. She still had nightmares about that day. It had been, for the lack of a better word, hell. "What about it?"

Grace spun, hands combing haphazardly through her hair as she paced the space in front of the door. "You ran into a building that was about to collapse, Kate. That's what. No sane person who wants to live does that. I called your phone for hours but I couldn't get through. 911 was a mess, the streets were gridlock, so I just sat at home, with Dad, eyes glued to the TV while he sipped away at his bottle lamenting how he was going to lose a daughter too. Until you finally showed up two days later, exhausted, covered in blood and debris."

"It's my _job," _Kate defended._ "_I did what I had to do. What I was _trained_ to do. I earned a medal for that, Grace!"

"So what, that justifies it? We were home worried sick that you would be lost in some pile of rubble and it's okay because it's your job? It's a job you _chose, _Kate. You almost died."

"There were _people _in there. Men and women. I could hear them screaming. They couldn't help themselves, but I could. I saw them, heard them, and I could help, so I did." She willed herself not to cry. She could feel the tears threatening, the way her throat swelled making her words choked. "I wasn't being suicidal or brave, Gracie. I was scared out of my mind. But they were going to die and I could help them. I couldn't save Mom, but I could save them. So I did. I did it for her. I do all of this for her."

The tears were flowing now, out of her eyes and her sister's. Identical expressions of pain and remembrance.

"What about me, Kate? What about Dad? You do all of this for mom, for her memory. For what? Justice? But what about us? How would we go on if we lost you too? You say that this is something you need to do for her, a noble quest. Well it's not, it's a choice, Kate. And it's going to get you killed. Just like her."

"So that's it, huh? A terrorist crashes a plane into a building in 2001 and two years later you walk out the door? That's some great reasoning, Grace."

"No," Grace retorted, wiping away her tears as her features grew defiant. "I left because both you and dad were happily drowning and I couldn't watch it anymore."

Kate felt her defenses starting to fall, all those nights spent locked in the precinct basement as a rookie as her father sat in a bar flooded back to her. "We're not like that anymore."

Grace shook her head. "It's only a matter of time. I know you, Kate. You won't be able to let this rest. You're going to go under again and I can't stick around to watch."

Kate stared at the door for long minutes after it clicked shut. Her fist clenched at her side as tears brimmed in her eyes, threatening to fall, but she wouldn't let them.

* * *

Castle paused outside his door when he returned home, listening for any sounds of a brawl on the other side. When he was met only with silence he quietly turned the knob with his free hand, the paper grocery bag in his other arm crinkling with the movement.

"Hello?" He greeted softly.

"Hey."

He pushed the door open as the weary greeting answered him. His heart clenched as he came face to face with the image of Kate Beckett slumped at the far end of the couch, fingers plucking at invisible strings at the bottom of her sweater as she stared at the far wall.

"Hey."

He took another step inside when she failed to reply. The rest of the loft was eerily silent.

"I take it Grace left?"

"A while ago. I didn't want to leave the place unlocked…"

Castle watched her carefully as she stood to leave, the way she hesitated instead of bee lining for the door, eyes downcast. She had yet to even look at him. He had never seen this Beckett before, quiet, introspective, teetering on the edge of broken. He took another step forward, lowering the bag to sit on the arm of the sofa.

"I'm sorry, Beckett. I shouldn't have done that to you." His remorse flowed out with his words.

Her eyes met his then, her lips drawn. "You really don't know how to stay out of it, do you?"

"I just…" His justification caught on his lips. "I thought if I could get Grace here, you two could talk and maybe it would help."

"Well it didn't and this ends now. I know you and Grace had this thing and you want everyone to be a big happy family but we're not so just stop."

"That's not…" Castle started, only to shake his head with a sigh as Beckett sucked in a shaky breath, barely holding herself together. "You're right. I'm sorry."

It was Beckett who deflated then, a hand coming up to run through her hair only to stop when she realized it wasn't flowing free. "No, I'm sorry. You were just trying to help. It's not your fault we're screwed up."

"You want to talk about it?" He was treading on thin ice and it was a long shot, so he held his breath as the air, thick with the residue of the fight, hung between them.

She rewarded him with an exasperated eye roll. "No. Now that you're home, I should go."

"Well," Castle interjected when she failed to move to leave. "I did promise you dinner. We could order Chinese. And I did pick up ice cream and bananas."

He motioned to the bag in emphasis. "We can watch old movies and drown our sorrows in hot fudge and whipped cream."

She quirked a brow at that, lips pursing as she bit back whatever comment was trying to work its way past her lips even through the torrent of emotions she was still battling.

"Katherine Beckett! I never. I meant on the sundaes."

She smiled then. A genuine Beckett smile, the one which caused him to preen whenever he was fortunate enough to be the reason it adorned her lips.

"Okay, fine."

He returned the smile before leading the way to the kitchen, rounding the counter to store his purchases as she slipped onto one of bar stools.

"I brought this." He turned to look at her as she placed a small package on the countertop. "For Alexis, it was her birthday last week, right? You said something about taking her to a musical. Can you give it to her for me?"

Castle couldn't help but smile at her thoughtfulness even though his heart was heavy with the pain that still shone in her eyes. "You can give it to her yourself, she should be home in a few minutes. Look, Beckett…"

"Don't okay?" Her eyes lifted to meet his. "I just want to forget it ever happened. Which place is the best?"

Castle sighed as she shuffled the take out menus. "China Garden. They have by far the best egg rolls and dumplings."

He watched an hour later, the table littered with half-empty take out containers, as she clasped the silver charm bracelet around his daughter's wrist, murmuring something shyly about how her mother had given her and her sister each one on their sixteenth birthday. His heart swelled when Alexis threw her arms around Kate's shoulders, pulling her in for a quick hug and a 'thank you' before excusing herself upstairs.

"I know it's cheesy." She explained to him with a shrug once the young redhead was out of sight. A shadow of sadness still shrouded her, even if slightly thinner, as she sat hunched at the table, eyes glistening. "But I just wanted to pass it on. It seemed right."

"It's perfect."

Kate ducked her head at the compliment, indicating to the large flat screen on the wall opposite the couch as she cleared her throat. "You said something about a movie?"

"Yeah, you pick one out. I'll build us the perfect banana splits. The secret is in the balance you know. Banana and ice cream, to fudge and nut ratio."

He was relieved to hear a snort of laughter as she ventured over to the cabinet of DVDs in the corner. He had spent hours early that day pondering his relationship with Kate Beckett, and subsequently his one with Grace Beckett. The knowledge that they weren't one in the same had him thinking a lot about the past few months. His eyes wandered to where she was crouched, a finger running slowly along the tops of the cases, pausing every so often to tilt one out before pushing it back in denial. Kate Beckett may not be who he thought she was. She wasn't that electric woman he had met in Los Angeles but that didn't make her any less fascinating. And Grace? Grace was an enigma.

"What about _Rear Window_?"

Her question cut through his musings and he plunked a single maraschino on top of her sundae with a flourish before looking up at the box she was holding out.

"I love that film!" He replied as he picked up the towering concoctions, rounding the counter back into the living room. "You know, if I was ever in an accident and stuck in this apartment for days on end I would love for that to happen to me."

"What? Be murdered and your neighbor see it?"

"No! To witness a crime. Wouldn't that just be the coolest?"

"Sure, Castle. I'll remember that for the next time you trip down the stairs at the precinct."

"One time, that happened one time, Beckett!"

The banter, a forced attempt to gain back some semblance of normalcy, gave way to a comfortable silence as the movie started, both of them digging into their ice cream.

"Grace was named after her, you know." Beckett mused after long minutes of silence. Castle wisely held back a comment about how her bringing up Grace clearly did not fall into the category of "not talking about it".

"Grace Kelly? Really?"

"Yep. Grace Kelly Beckett. Mom was a fan of old movies. I'm named after Katherine Hepburn."

Castle hummed in response. "I can see that. Strong woman. It fits you."

Silence fell again as Jimmy Stewart spoke on the screen, both content to get lost in the movie, their mouths working silently along with the words.

"Hey, Castle?" He felt the tips of Beckett's fingers brush the back of his hand where it rested on his thigh. Their bowls, long empty, rested on the table in front of them.

He turned to find her eyes trained on him instead of the film. "Yeah?"

"Thank you."

He held his reply on the tip of his tongue, offering her a smile and nod instead. Yes, he thought, as her attention turning back to the film, this Kate Beckett was magical too.

* * *

A/N: Castle may not be able to say Always yet but I can. Thank you, as _always, _for the lovely reviews and flails. Also thank you to Angie for the lovely cover art and KC for her ample use of pink paragraphs which inevitably make my writing stronger. Never change in your bold honesty- it's a gift.

PS- Also please ignore any inaccuracies about the 9/11 story, after all this is fiction. ;)


	7. I Feel Stupid and Contagious

Chapter 7- I Feel Stupid and Contagious

January 2010

The first time Grace received a call from Kate after leaving Rick Castle's apartment months before, she didn't answer the phone. Instead, she sat, staring at it as it rang. Her heart sank, in regret or relief she wasn't sure, as it switched over to her voicemail.

She sat sipping coffee at the bistro table in her Parisian apartment, next to the window overlooking the bustling, snow-covered street below her, as the icon taunted her. In the bathroom the shower shut off. A few seconds later the bathroom door opened and the tall blond... Hans? No. Christof maybe? No... Philip. Right. Philip padded across the small living space back to the bedroom, throwing her a wink before disappearing from sight. How did she always manage to pick up the men who didn't want to just disappear in the middle of the night? With a roll of her eyes she focused back down on the phone in front of her. Finally her finger pressed the button.

"_Hey, Grace."_ The exhaustion in Kate's voice spilled through the speaker. "_I... I caught him. The guy who killed Mom. I found him. It wasn't random, Gracie. Someone hired him to kill her, but I had to shoot him before he could tell me who. He threatened Castle, held him at gunpoint." _Grace's breath caught in her chest, her heart pounding. "_So, I shot him. He's dead. I just thought you should know." _

"There are no more new messages."

Grace's breath stuttered as the electronic voice continued to run through her menu of options. In the distance a muttering of German was followed by the click of the front door as it shut.

She didn't care.

She didn't.

She didn't care that Kate had caught their mother's killer. She didn't care that Kate had shot someone. She didn't care that she could have been shot. She didn't care that Rick had been held at gunpoint. She didn't.

Except she did.

Picking up the phone she punched dial before she could rethink her decision. Her fingers twitched with every ring, but she forced them still until she heard the telltale click on the other end and a tired voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey!"

"Grace?"

"Yeah, hi. I know it's late but I just got a message from Kate. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

* * *

April 2010

He had been staring at her all day with this half guilty expression and she was on the verge of wanting to scream.

"What?"

"Nothing…"

"Castle."

He was sitting in his normal chair beside her desk, coffee clutched in his palms, leg jiggling incessantly as she tried to focus on the ever-growing stack of paperwork.

"Have you heard from Grace lately?"

The question caught her off guard. Neither of them had even mentioned her sister in months. She placed her pen down on the half-completed form before turning in her chair to look at him, picking up her own mug for comfort.

"No. Left her a message a few weeks ago after what happened with Coonan but never heard back." She shrugged. Feigning indifference as she attempted to ignore the burning sensation in her gut. She had done this charade for six years; she could keep doing it. "Why?"

"No reason." He replied quickly.

Her eyes narrowed, her chance to interrogate him further cut short when her phone rang. She answered it, her eyes still focused on him, with a perfunctory "Beckett."

"That was Lanie," Kate explained as she pushed herself out of her chair, gathering her coat and keys. "She's got something for us. You coming?"

"Actually, not tonight," Castle declined, standing beside her, gathering his own coat. "I promised Alexis I would help her with a project. Fill me in in the morning?"

"Yeah, sure," Beckett replied, fiddling with her collar as Castle flashed her a bright smile before turning and heading toward the elevator. He had been acting weird all day, twitchier than normal. Not that Castle was usually still. She shook her head as he disappeared from sight, gathering up the ceramic mugs littering her desk and depositing them in the break room sink before heading out to see Lanie. It was late, she wouldn't be back at the precinct tonight.

"Hey, Beckett, heading out?"

Kate looked up from where the frayed scrub brush circled the cups slowly as her wrist swirled it around, lemon scented suds sloshing in the warm water. Esposito was leaning against the doorway to the breakroom. Ryan hovered behind him texting on his phone, presumably with his girlfriend Jenny.

"Heading over to see Lanie but after that yeah. Why?"

"We were talking about getting a drink. Assuming that Ryan can get permission. You and Castle in?"

Beckett smirked at Esposito's dig at his partner's obvious whipped status. "Castle had to head home but I am and Lanie too probably. Meet you there in a hour?"

"Sounds good," Javi replied with a smile before turning back to Ryan. "Bro…"

"I'm coming, I'm coming. Jenny's meeting us there too."

"Aw come on, bro, just admit it, you are so whipped."

"Yes, fine I am whipped. I am happily whipped."

"There is no such thing as happily whipped."

"Really?" Ryan retorted as the two turned to gather their jackets from their desks. "How many times have you had sex in the last six months? Because I can guarantee it's fewer than the number of times I have in the past week. Think about that and then talk to me about why it's bad to be 'whipped'."

Beckett let out a quiet chuckle at the boys' antics, wiping her hands on a paper towel. The mugs were drying on the rack by the sink, ready for Castle to fill in the morning. It had been a ritual of sorts, the perfectly blended latte that would appear before her in the mornings. She had even begun to miss it on the days he wasn't there. Not that she would ever admit it.

Something had changed between them during the past couple months, since everything that happened with Grace and then with Coonan. There was a calmness that had settled. It was warm, soft, like the old worn blanket she would pull out every winter. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that something had been up these past few days. With a sigh she threw the towel in the garbage, sparing the mugs one last glance, before heading out the door.

* * *

Castle hesitated, his fist inches away from the door, the guilt gnawing at his gut. He had straight up lied to Beckett's face. No, he shouldn't feel guilty about it. They weren't in a relationship. They weren't even really friends, were they? They worked together. They were partners. Sort of.

_Someday soon, I'm gonna find the sons of bitches who had Coonan kill her. And I'd like you around when I do. And if you tell anyone what I'm about to say, there's gonna be another shooting, but...I've gotten used to you pulling my pigtails. I have a hard job, Castle, and having you around makes it a little more fun._

They were something complicated and mysterious.

With one last deep breath he knocked, his pulse thumping in his wrist as he listened for the telltale click of heels on the other side of the door. He had nothing to feel guilty about. He and Kate were just friends. She had made that perfectly clear from the beginning. And this, this was just a dinner.

"Hey."

The greeting was low and paired with an uncharacteristically shy smile.

"Hey, yourself," he replied as Grace stood in the doorway of her hotel room, glancing past him down the hall. "What's up?"

"Oh, just making sure this isn't another ploy to get me and Kate in the same room."

He let out a chuckle at her raised eyebrow and the playful quirk of her lips. "I deserve that. It's just the two of us, I promise."

Grace flashed a smile and he found himself smiling back as she waved him in, saying she just needed to grab her jacket.

"So, where are we going?" Grace asked as she tugged her long wavy, now dark brown, hair out of her collar.

"There's a hip new sushi bar just down the block I've been wanting to try."

"Just down the block? You really know how to show a girl The City, Mr. Castle."

Castle chuckled as she smoothed the lines of her skirt and grabbed her clutch off the table. There was something easy about Grace, a playfulness that she exuded. It was delightfully not Beckett. He didn't need to claw and scratch his way in.

"Next time I'll take you to the Statue of Liberty and Times Square. I promise."

"Next time? Awfully presumptuous of you."

"Well, I mean..." Castle stuttered as he held open the door and Grace brushed past him into the hall.

"Relax, Rick," she said as she turned to wait for him. "Now show me this block."

* * *

"Hey, girl."

Kate replied to Lanie's greeting with a quick flash of a smile. She shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket as she watched Lanie flit around the exam room of the morgue. "Hey, what's up?"

"What, no writerly sidekick tonight?" Lanie questioned, a pink-gloved hand indicating the empty space at Kate's side.

Beckett shrugged. "Not tonight, he has plans with Alexis."

Lanie propped one hand on her hip, the other resting on their latest homicide victim's shoulder, a contemplative finger tapping the cold flesh. "Spill."

Kate huffed. Why did her friend have to be so intuitive? "It's nothing."

"You know, every time you say 'it's nothing' I automatically know it's _something. _Spill. You know I can do this all day." Lanie continued as Kate hesitated.

"I don't know. I just get the feeling he was lying. But why would he lie? It's not like I care if he has a date or anything, he has dates all the time. So do I. Not that that would matter since we aren't anything even close to dating or that I would even want to…"

"Right…"

Beckett narrowed her eyes at her friend. "What did you want to tell me about the body?"

Lanie shrugged. "I found a substance under his fingernails. It looked like it could be tar. I sent it off to the lab, won't hear back until morning."

Kate stared at her friend. "That's it? Lanie, you couldn't have told me that over the phone?"

"I _could _have but you've been artfully dodging me for the last few weeks."

"Lanie..."

"Kate... You found

* * *

out Castle _slept _with your _identical twin. _I gave you space, I let you stew, to process. Now it's time for you to spill."

"There's nothing to spill. It happened, it's over. If anything it just cements the fact that nothing will ever happen between Castle and me. Not that it would have anyway."

"Uh huh. Right. So you don't care at all."

Kate shrugged. "Nope. Now, can we drop it? I'm headed to meet Ryan, Jenny and Espo at McCleary's, you coming?"

Lanie snorted, her lips pursed. "Fine, let me just get my coat. We can drop it. For now."

"Lanie..."

"Nah uh, girl. It's dropped, remember?"

Kate rolled her eyes as she followed her friend out the door. She really didn't care. She didn't.

* * *

"So, what's up with you and Carlos the Paramedic?" Kate asked as they walked up the last couple steps of the subway, stepping out onto the bustling block.

"Oh that's been over for a while. Don't get me wrong, there was a spark but he wasn't too bright. I can only kiss a man to shut him up so many times. What happens between the sheets only goes so far, you know?"

Beckett chuckled as they turned the corner, the bar sign swinging at the end of the block. Lanie really was something else when it came to relationships. While Kate focused on the intellectual connection first and the physical connection second, Lanie had a tendency to do the opposite. Only time would tell if one method worked better than the other. But there were definitely times when Kate envied her friend's ability to just fall into bed with a man, no guilt or regret in the morning.

Her eyes wandered across the street as they walked along in companionable silence, Lanie typing something on her phone with a gloved hand. She watched as the people walked on the opposite sidewalk, some in silence, others in unheard conversation, their hands gesturing in a silent story. Her feet slowed to a crawl as her eyes zeroed in on a familiar head of hair atop a broad pair of shoulders. Hands shoved in pockets clenched into fists as her gaze turned to the woman for whom he was holding the door, dark brown hair automatically notifying her it wasn't Alexis.

"Kate?" Lanie called from where she had walked ahead of her friend. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Kate swallowed the thick lump in her throat, praying her voice would come out steady as the woman turned, allowing Kate a flash of her all too familiar profile. Stupid, she was so stupid. She should have just let him go months ago when he tried to leave after Dick Coonan held him at gunpoint in the precinct, freed herself of the entire messy, complicated situation. Instead she had been honest, let him in a step further_. _She was such an idiot. She finally dragged her attention back to her friend, flashing Lanie a quick tight smile. "Let's go. The guys are waiting."

Lanie gazed past her as Kate started down the sidewalk, trying to see what had caught the detective's attention just moments earlier, but all that remained was a vacant doorway to the hopping sushi restaurant Castle had been raving about just days before.

* * *

"So…" Grace shifted in her seat as she leaned forward on the small table, a flickering candle, palate of dipping sauces and half empty tokkuri of Sake separating them. "Why are we here, Rick?"

"What do you mean?"

They had been talking about nothing all night— small talk about Europe, and the modeling world, tidbits about Castle's new book. He had artfully dodged the topic of her sister, and she had pretended not to notice.

"I mean, we've been talking to each other off and on for the last couple months, and then the first time I am back in the city you offer to take me out to dinner. Why?"

"You don't pull any punches, do you?"

Grace shrugged, her fingers twisting the base of her rounded choko glass on the table, her lips playing at a smile. "Don't get me wrong, swordplay is fun but it's only a matter of time before someone gets stabbed."

Castle stared at the woman across the table from him, her brow furrowing under his scrutiny.

"What?" She finally asked, her voice taking on a shy hint.

"Nothing."

"It's not nothing, tell me what's going on inside your head."

Castle sighed, settling back in his wooden chair. "I was just thinking that for all the similarities between you and Beckett, you two really are not alike at all."

"Ah, and there it is." Grace leaned back, mirroring his pose, crossing one leg over the other, her stiletto-heeled boot swinging.

"There what is?"

"The inevitable comparison. Kate and I might look alike, we may share a duplicate gene pattern, and we might have grown up together, but trust me, that is where the similarities end. But I don't want to talk about her, and I get the feeling you already know that, so I ask again. Why are we here?"

"I owed you an actual dinner, since I used the last one to trick you. Castle shrugged. Settling back in his seat as he continued to speak. "I just wanted to get to know you. The _real_ Grace."

"Ah, I deserve that. Look, I'm sorry for giving you the wrong name in L.A., but you have to understand that I never thought I would see you again, and I definitely never thought you would track down my sister because of it."

"Hey, now, that's not what happened. Kate found me, not the other way around."

"So you weren't looking?"

"Well, I wouldn't say I wasn't looking, trust me, you left an impression. But a woman named Kate who I randomly met across the country? What were the odds?"

"Yeah, what were the odds?"

They fell into a companionable silence as they sat across the table from each other, each sipping their drinks, as the waiter placed their plates in front of them.

"Let's just call it even, okay?" Grace stated, picking up her chopsticks. "I lied about my name and you tricked me. Even."

"Okay." Rick agreed.

Silence fell over them again as they dug into their food.

"Why do you call her 'Beckett'?"

"What?"

"Katie. You call her 'Beckett'; she calls you 'Castle'. It's weird."

Castle's chest puffed slightly. "It's a cop thing."

"But you're not a cop."

"No, but I am a cop helper. Sort of."

"Really? A 'cop helper'? And she's okay with you 'helping'?"

"Yes."

Grace pegged him with a look. She may not have been around a lot lately but she knew her sister, and she was getting to know Rick.

"Well, okay, she may have complained to the captain… and the police commissioner… and a couple of judges in the beginning, but she's okay with me now. And it's not like I just follow her around all day scribbling her every move on a notepad. I do help."

"Right. By getting guns pointed at your head."

"Once. That happened once, and technically it was my gut."

"Rick."

"I help connect the clues, and come up with theories. I even have my own vest."

"Vest?"

"Yeah, you know a Kevlar vest," he explained, his hands moving across his chest in emphasis. "But instead of 'Police' it says 'Writer'. Pretty cool, huh?"

Grace rolled her eyes as she laughed at the excitement he exuded. "Just be careful, will you?"

"I'm always careful. Plus, Beckett would never let anything happen to me. She's always grumbling something about how much paperwork it would cause."

"Right."

"Yeah, so we've talked about me enough. Tell me about you. Why are you back in New York?"

Grace hesitated. She could lie, should lie, but instead she heard the truth spilling from her lips. "I had a meeting. _Modern Fashion_ offered me a Creative Conceptual Editor position here."

"Creative Conceptual Editor?"

"Yeah, it's a fancy way of saying I would be designing the photo shoots. You know. Themes, props, et cetera."

"Wow, that's great. So you'd be moving back?"

"In theory, yes. But I haven't taken it yet."

"Why not?"

Grace shrugged, her gaze focusing back in on her Sake as her fingers twirled it. Her half-empty plate was forgotten. They had skirted the line talking about Rick's work with the NYPD, but the topic of New York was too real, too close.

"I have friends in Europe, they're my family. I don't know if I want to leave them. Plus, European men, so much more sophisticated than Americans."

"I am wounded!" Rick replied, a hand fluttering over his chest in mock indignation. Grace laughed, relief flooding her as he let the topic drop. "I must tell you I am the epitome of sophistication. I only own the best laser tag equipment, and when I eat an oversized sundae I always have my pinky raised."

"Well I stand corrected, Mr. Castle."

"You bet your pretty little ass you do."

Grace felt her face flush. This was probably the best date she had had in a long time. Not that it was a date— it was a dinner, an obligation, an apology. But it definitely would be a nice date.

* * *

"Thank you for dinner," Grace stated as she leaned back against her hotel room door, her hand resting lazily on the knob. "You want to come in? There's a pack of pretty bad complimentary coffee left over from this morning."

Castle's eyes trained on her mouth as she pulled her lower lip between her teeth. It was such a Beckett move. He wondered if they saw the similarities in themselves, Grace and Kate, or if they were completely oblivious to the fact that they were so much more alike than either of them would admit.

It had taken nights lying awake in his bed, many days in the precinct and a few long distance phone calls from Europe, but they were getting easier to distinguish in his mind. Kate and Grace were no longer one in the same to him, in fact he had started to notice the similarities and every one of the many differences. Kate was tough, solid, but there was a softness underneath, reserved for only the most deserving of people. Grace on the other hand shined so bright it was easy to ignore the darkness, the hurt he knew was buried just below the surface.

It would be so easy to follow her through the door, the warm blanket of the Sake still coating his veins, but he couldn't stop thinking about the look on Kate's face as she watched him walk out of the precinct earlier that evening. His mind flashed through the last few months, the way the smiles, the laughter was slowly becoming less reserved, how their minds had become even more in sync as they bounced ideas, theories volleying between them. But that knowledge was still there. He has slept with her sister, and the wound that act had caused would not be healing anytime soon.

"I'm sorry," his voice finally sounded, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. "I really should go.

"Right," she replied, nodding as her smile faltered slightly. "Thanks again for dinner. I guess your obligation is fulfilled."

"It wasn't just an obligation, Grace. I really did have a good time tonight, it's just that my daughter…" His voice trailed off. He really should stop using his kid as an excuse.

"No, no. I get it. Have a good night, Rick."

Castle leaned in, pressing his lips quickly to her cheek before pulling back, offering her a wide smile. "You too. Next time you're in town I'll give you the new resident tour."

Grace let out a soft laugh. "You do know I lived here before, right? And I haven't taken the job yet."

"_Yet._ Until next time, Grace. Be safe out there." He stated as he backed away.

"You too, Rick. Until next time." She murmured back, and he turned down the hall.

This time he had the chance to do what was right.

* * *

A/N: I love all of your reactions to this story and to Grace. I know I have done something right as a writer if I eliciting such strong opinions (good and bad) with this story and character. There are plenty more twists and turns to go so stay tuned. ;)

Thank you as always to Angie for the beautiful cover art and to Kate Christie for the beta, writing pom poms and everything else.


	8. I'm Worse At What I Do Best

*If you haven't yet, please check out the #ThankYouTerri Campaign, organized by Kate Chritie and Dia (Fembot77) and give to the Young Storyteller's Foundation, because every child has a story to tell.

Website: www . youngstorytellers / thankyouterri /

Tumblr: ThankYouTerri

* * *

Chapter 8- I'm Worse At What I Do Best

April 2010

Kate had spent the last week cleansing her psyche of any potential romantic thoughts of Richard Castle. Not only had he straight out lied to her, he had seen Grace behind her back. Not that she had any say in them seeing each other, or that she even cared. She didn't care. Her fist connected with the punching bag. She didn't. But he had lied, and that was the last straw.

If it hadn't been obvious before, it was now— any signals he had been aiming at her had been intended for Grace. Grace was the one he had slept with. Grace was the one he wanted. Not that she cared; it was better this way. She had meant what she had told Lanie. She didn't care at all. She didn't have feelings for him. She didn't. Castle and Grace? They deserved each other. Castle had made it perfectly clear through his statements over the past year that he wanted nothing of a serious relationship, and if Grace was anything like she had been before she left for parts unknown, any relationship that lasted longer than two weeks was a feat of epic proportions.

Kate on the other hand, she wanted something more than smalltalk over dinner and a dalliance between the sheets. She wanted something real. Not that real was normally an option with her schedule and the way most men looked at her when she said she was a homicide detective. _Castle doesn't look at you like that. _

She let out a grunt as she continued to pummel the bag, mentally telling that little voice in her head to shut up. Of course waiting for an actual relationship meant it had been a while, and the gym equipment was taking the brunt of that pent up sexual frustration. Her fist connected again and again, the bag swinging with the force of the impact.

"You need someone to steady your bag."

Kate looked up startled at the voice, ready to bite back with a sarcastic reply when her eyes focused on the... charming grin of the exquisitely chiseled man who was placing his bag on the bench, the subtle spice of his cologne sending a warm jolt through her veins.

Brushing an errant lock of hair out of her eyes, she worked to catch her breath, which was still coming out in pants. "You volunteering?"

The words made it past her lips before she could stop them and she forced herself not to pull her lip between her teeth in embarrassment when he gave a soft laugh and shrugged before turning her way. This was good. Flirting with the freakishly attractive human in front of her was proof she had no more feelings than annoyance toward her writer shadow.

Kate smiled as he shrugged and sauntered over to hold the punching bag. Yes, this was exactly what she needed.

* * *

Grace chewed on her bottom lip as she watched the river flow under the bridge where she sat. A copy of _Heat Wave_ rested on the bench beside her now cold cafe au lait. Her gaze drifted up to where the sun was starting to dip below the horizon, leaving the air with an extra chill as it departed. Her hands pulled tight at the light wrap she had thrown around her shoulders. Matilda King had given her until the end of the month to make her decision: a couple more years on the runways or the beginning of a new career.

"_Think about it Miss Beckett. What are you going to do when you are too old for the pages? I am giving you a golden opportunity, one that most of your friends out there on the circuit would kill for. The difference is that you actually have the brain to do it. _

"_I've heard about you, how you are a giant pain in the ass to the photographers because you are always coming up with new ideas to improve the shoots. They don't like to give up control but I've seen some of your concepts. You're good. Very good. You could be running this magazine one day. But yes, you would have to come back to New York."_

She had considered taking neither. She had enough money saved, she could travel the world for a bit, leave everything and everyone behind. But what then? She was skilled for nothing except the fashion industry. Lisette and Eva were already prowling for a man to keep them secure when their runway days were finished, spending every free moment in Monte Carlo, sizing up the middle-aged billionaires and their Aston Martins. But Grace couldn't be dependent, couldn't give up that control. It was all she had. She was free, shackled to no one. That was how she liked it.

Her eyes drifted down to the book, fingers flipping open the cover, delicately dancing over the dedication. When was the last time someone had seen _her_ as extraordinary? When was the last time she had let them?

Matilda King seemed to think she was.

Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she weighed it in her palm. She hadn't heard a word from her sister since that call in January, but Rick had been sending her random texts, every once in a while, when he thought he was being subtle, he would casually mention how Kate was doing. She had found those were the messages she would open randomly in the middle of the night when she couldn't sleep.

Her stomach growled, a pained moan of abuse, and she thought about the lean chicken and dry salad fixings housed in her small refrigerator. She had dreams of steak and fettucini alfredo. Her fingers flew over the key before she could second guess her decision, pressing send and shoving her phone back into her pocket. Quickly she gathered the book, and threw the coffee into a trashcan before heading down the road toward the small market she forced herself past everyday, ignoring the delicious smells of freshly baked bread wafting out of the busy front door. Walking inside she flashed a smile to the woman behind the counter, pointing out a long baguette and wheel of brie before plucking a bottle of cabernet from the basket by the door. With an exchange of money and a quiet goodnight she slipped back out the door and climbed the steps to her apartment readying herself to feast on her celebratory dinner with a shaky breath, anxiety and excitement swirling in her gut.

It was time to go home.

* * *

Castle stared out the window of the break room, his spoon clanking against the sides of his cappuccino as he watched the two of them flirting over her desk, the coffees _he_ had brought them sitting between them. He. Him._ Demming._ Castle could see it now, the romantic plot twist in his next Nikki Heat book, Jameson Rook had a new arch nemesis and his name was Tom Demming, Robbery Detective. The man had just shown up, wedged himself into their case, their lives, and now he was taking over Castle's chair.

Castle's scowl deepened as Beckett threw her head back laughing, her hair flipping over her shoulder. It was a full laugh, accompanied by a flirty hand resting against his bicep. Beckett was flirting. With "Tom". This was not good. Castle huffed as he turned his back to the window, leaning against the edge of the counter, coffee forgotten. Beckett hadn't even given him a full smile in weeks; come to think of it the most he had been gifted were tight-lipped twitches and eye rolls. Normally he liked the game of how far he could push her until she snapped at one of his theories, knowing that she secretly enjoyed being annoyed by him. She had said so herself- she liked him pulling her pigtails, but something was different now. Come to think of it she had been more withdrawn, a little more guarded. But nothing had happened, as far as he could tell he hadn't said anything overly stupid lately, well at least not more stupid than normal. And anytime he had asked if everything was okay she had replied only with a perfunctory "fine."

But now there was Demming.

Hi phone pinged, pulling him from his thoughts.

_So, when can I get that new resident tour?_

His face broke into the first smile of the day, his fingers flying over the keypad.

_When do you get here?_

Castle reached around and picked up his rapidly cooling coffee as he waited for the reply.

_In a week. _

_Then I'll see you a week from tomorrow. _

With a final grin he downed the rest of his coffee, placing the empty cup in the sink before turning to exit the break room only to find himself face to face with the other Beckett.

"What are you so happy about?"

"Nothing," He answered quickly, possibly too quickly by the narrowing of her eyes.

"Uh huh," Kate replied. "Come on, we've got a lead."

Castle's phone pinged in his pocket and his fingers twitched but he didn't reach for it as he followed Beckett out the door, trying to conceal his contempt as Demming fell into step next to Kate.

This was going to be a long case.

* * *

"Come on, Rick? You sure?" Grace teased, her tongue poking out between her teeth.

They had had a nice night, he had taken her on a true tourist tour of the city. Sightseeing on a tour bus, bypassing the serpentining line for the Empire State Building with a smooth pass of a hundred dollar bill, and dinner at a true New York style pizza joint where he had been thoroughly impressed by how many slices she had wolfed down. She really had missed pizza. While she would miss some of the aspects of being on the pages and runways, there were definite perks to transitioning behind the scenes. No longer needing to constantly diet was one of the best of them. At this rate she was going to put on twenty pounds easily.

Now, they were back in the hall outside of the hotel room the magazine was putting her up in until she managed to find an apartment, and she was feeling very bold, courtesy of the residual jet lag and three generous glasses of shiraz flowing through her system.

"I'm sure."

Grace leaned into him, her hands coming up to toy with his collar as she pulled her lip between her teeth. It had been awhile, too long in her book, and the wine was making her overly confident, throwing caution to the wind. "So you're saying you really don't want to? Because I have the feeling that's not true. We both know page 105 of _Heat Wave_ was all me."

"Grace…" Castle replied with a sigh, his hands coming up to pull at her fingers, gripping them loosely as he pushed them down and stepped back. "Look, I can't do that to Kate. I hurt her enough last time and I didn't even know her then. I promised myself I wouldn't do it again."

Grace leaned back against the door of her room. He was right. He shouldn't do that to Kate and neither should she. Katie may never admit it but a blind man could see she had feelings for Castle. "You're right. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pushed you."

"It's okay. I'm headed to my house in the Hamptons for a while, I need to get some writing done. By the time I get back you should be pretty much settled. Maybe we could get dinner again? As a friend."

Grace crossed her arms over her chest, she wasn't used to being turned down by men, but she was supposed to be turning over a new leaf, right? Trying to start again back in New York, to straighten out the mess of her life. This was only step one, neither her sister nor her father even knew she was back yet, but those were steps she would take in due time.

"Sure, as a friend."

* * *

Castle stared at Kate from across her desk, the bullpen clock ticking away the seconds, her head bent over paperwork. He had let out a sigh of relief when he had settled into his chair next to Beckett's desk, one that was blissfully vacant of Tom _Demming. _There was a staleness in the air, one that had inexplicably been there for weeks. But an idea was churning in his mind, one that would hopefully help them overcome whatever had created this new barrier.

"You know, I've been thinking about heading up to the Hamptons this weekend even though Alexis will be gone for the summer. You should come with me. Decompress, lay by the pool. It would be fun." Castle stated only to have his smile at his brilliant idea fall when Beckett replied only with a snort and a grumbled "yeah, right."

"Okay, Beckett, what's going on? You've been acting weird for weeks- distant, the _constant_ eye rolling, the blatant flirting with Robocop over there."

"Robocop, really?" Beckett shot back. "And since when is it a crime for me to flirt with someone? I'm an adult. I'm single. Last time I checked, it was _allowed_ for me to flirt."

"That's not the point. I thought…" His heart stuttering as the words spilled from him before he could stop them. Because if he let himself think before he spoke he never would have the courage to say what he was about to. "I thought we were getting somewhere, closer, after Coonan and your apartment blowing up, and now it's like we're back to a year ago when you hated me."

He risked looking up, sneaking a glance at her expression only to see her face set in stone, no trace of emotion at what he had just said, and his heart plummeted. Apparently he had read the signals all wrong- the late night dinners together at Remy's, the playful banter back and forth, the way her face had started to light up in a smile when he placed a cup of coffee in front of her.

"You want to know what's wrong, Castle? You lied to me." Beckett finally started, her voice low as she pushed back in her seat, arms folded over her chest, legs crossed. Completely closed off, defensive.

"What?"

"You lied. I know you're dating Grace. You told me you had plans with Alexis and then you went out with my sister behind my back. So just stop it with the games and the back and forth and ask Grace to the Hamptons with you."

"No, Beckett, Kate, you have it wrong. There is nothing going on between me and Grace."

"Oh, so you didn't have dinner with her?"

"Well, yeah, I had dinner with her but we're not dating. She was here for an interview, I wanted to apologize for how I acted last time she was in town."

Beckett froze then. "An interview."

"Y-yeah." Castle stuttered. "She, um, got offered a position at _Modern Fashion_. She's moving back."

"Oh."

"Beckett, I'm sorry," Castle stated, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Sometimes it felt like all he ever did now was apologize to one Beckett or the other. "I've been trying to get her to tell you…"

"You've been talking?"

"Off and on."

"Right."

Castle deflated back into his chair. Now he knew how Odysseus had felt. "Beckett…"

She turned back to focus on her paperwork, pen scratching idly on a purple Post-it note, a color he found oddly whimsical given her stanch level of professionalism, as she ignored his attempt at continued conversation.

The woman was so frustrating. One step forward, two steps back. The Kate Beckett tango. "You're right. I shouldn't have lied to you, I just know you don't like to talk about Grace, and I made a bad choice. I'm sorry."

Beckett let out a small pop of air, her cheeks puffing slightly with the motion. "I still can't come to the Hamptons, some of us have real jobs."

Even with the dig, it was probably the closest to an acceptance of his apology he would get.

"Okay." Castle was surprised at the disappointment that settled in the pit of his stomach. "Maybe next time."

"Right," Beckett replied, voice still tight. "Next time."

* * *

Castle fumed as he paced the small length of his office, two fingers of scotch in hand, another two already in his stomach. Where did she get off being all sanctimonious about him lying to her and then turning around and lying to him moments later? Imagine his surprise when he found out Kate had turned down his invitation to the Hamptons because she was going away with her new boyfriend. Here he was feeling guilty for having just a friendship with Grace when she was falling into a full-fledged relationship with some other guy. He was such an idiot. She didn't have any feelings for him. She had made that perfectly clear. And now she was going away with Demming for the weekend.

He brought the glass to his lips, wincing as the cool liquid burned its way down his throat. He couldn't do this anymore, this back and forth, the constant walking on eggshells. He thought he could, he thought it would be easy to compartmentalize, but it wasn't. He hadn't realized it until he saw her with another guy, one she was serious enough about to go away with him for the weekend. Slamming the glass on the desk he poured another serving, not caring as a couple drops sloshed over the side.

And then. _Then. _She had the gall to look disappointed when he said that he would be gone for the whole summer, that he needed a break. Like she actually cared about him at all. No, he didn't need this, the grey middle ground. Easy and fun, that was Richard Castle, Page 6 had said so many times. He was the playboy of the writing world. Playboys didn't go for complicated relationships with hard-boiled detectives who built walls high enough to keep out the Hun Army. They dated the cocktail waitress from their favorite bar down the street; they fell into bed with the model who moonlighted as a pretty face for his latest book launch party.

Castle threw back his drink and grabbed his coat before he could stop himself.

* * *

Grace had just pinned her second earring into her ear when there was a knock on the door. She had been getting ready to go to a company party across town, and for the first time in her life she didn't feel like partying, at least not for work. Getting lost in the dark corner of a nightclub was starting to sound more than just a little appealing though. New York was hard, harder than she had imagined it would be. Everyone she knew in the city was from back before her mother had died. She had contacted a couple of them, but the meetings were awkward, stilted. To make matters worse, her new coworkers had taken to looking at her like a leech. Apparently she had beaten out a lot of bitter people for this job. If her boss had been a man, she was sure there would have been rumors of her sleeping her way into the position. But who knew, those rumors could still be milling.

It was lonely, too lonely. At this rate, she was seriously starting to consider a sugar daddy from Monaco. She grabbed her wallet from the side table as she padded her way across the hotel room, feet still bare. It was probably just the concierge with her dry cleaning. Opening the door, she was in the middle of pulling a twenty from her wallet when two hands grabbed her face, a warm mouth on hers before she could even look up.

"Rick? Oh my god, Rick. What?" She stuttered out as he pulled back, glassy eyes staring down at her.

"Please." The word passed over his lips, a whispered plea, and Grace nodded before she even let herself think. His lips were on hers again, and she groaned into him as they stumbled backward into the room, hands frantically ripping at clothing as tongues battled. This wasn't about her-she already knew— but in that moment she didn't care.

* * *

AN: In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I am thankful for all of you readers even though you probably want to roast _me_ like a turkey right now. Like I said in Ch1, this is a Castle/Kate story, please stick with me and keep the faith.

Thank you also to KC for the beta and constant sequin-laced pom poms.


	9. It's Fun To Lose And To Pretend

Chapter 9- It's Fun To Lose And To Pretend

July 2010

"Rick, this place is gorgeous," Grace exclaimed as she set her bag down in the hall of his house in the Hamptons. She had finally made it out of the city and to the beachside mansion for the long Fourth of July weekend.

He replied with a small smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. It had been months of back and forth, dinner plans, boat reservations for midnight cruises from him and last minute cancellations from her. Months that he had spent alone with his endless spiral of thoughts and Nikki Heat.

"Hey, you okay?" Grace questioned, her arms sliding around his waist, her lips painting a line up his jaw.

"Yeah, of course," he answered, pulling back after a quick, welcoming kiss to the lips. "Let's get you settled and then I can give you the grand tour."

He grabbed her suitcase with one hand, twined the fingers of his other through hers to lead her up the stairs. He stowed her bag in his bedroom quickly and tugged her back out into the hall, pointing out the other bedrooms and bathrooms, before descending the back staircase, exiting beside the kitchen.

"The library and study are just through there," he continued. He had been talking constantly through the tour, words falling nervously from his lips. "Come on, I'll show you the theater room and back deck."

"Rick, are you sure you're okay?"

Castle stalled with a sigh. "I'm fine. Just not used to company."

Grace pegged him with an incredulous look that made his heart simultaneously sink and swell. "Really? You mean to tell me you've been up here all alone _all _summer."

Rick shrugged. "Yeah."

"I, um…" Grace stuttered, her face falling.

"But," Castle continued pasting on a bright smile, purposefully ignoring the implications of Grace's lack of a response. "My book is almost finished and now you're here."

"Right," Grace replied, her smile now the strained one. "I'm here."

"So," Castle's voice rose as he tugged on her hand, walking backward so he could continue to look at her as he led her down the elegantly decorated hall, their shoes clicking gently on the cherry wood floors. "How's New York, how's the fantastic new job?"

"Good… it's good." Grace pulled her lower lip between her teeth for a moment, eyes falling contemplatively before rising back to his, her face forced up into a smile. "Show me this deck."

* * *

The precinct was unusually bright as he walked in the next morning, two coffees clutched in his hands, and a smile on his face. He felt lighter than he had in months. The Hamptons had been good for him, cleansing but now he was back.

He paused as he turned the corner taking in the view of Beckett's desk before him, the way her back curved as she hunched over a pile of paperwork, long locks of caramel hair falling like a curtain over her face. She was beautiful.

"Kate!"

His smile fell as the voice sounded from behind him and then Demming was in front of him, a smirk firmly in place on his face.

"What? Did you think you actually had a chance with her after what you've done? She deserves better than you, _Rick._ She deserves someone who actually respects her."

"But I do!" He argued, the coffee sloshing over the edge of the cups, burning his wrists as his hands shook, fear and rage swelling within him.

He was staring into Kate's eyes, those magical irises that flickered from hazel to brown to green given her mood. She was stepping back, a smile dancing across her lips as Demming's arm wrapped around her waist, his hand resting on possessively on her hip, the wedding ring adorning his fourth finger glistening as fluorescent light bleached the room, scalding his eyes.

"No. You only hurt her. You always have."

"Kate." Castle awoke with a start, his heart pounding, sweat pooling in the swell of his back. He blinked in the darkness, burrowing his face into the pillow before turning to look at the woman still asleep next to him. A small smile crossed his lips as he reached out, his fingers hovering over her skin. She was here. She had come with him instead.

His smile fell. She hadn't. His hand pulled back, curing it into a fist before using it to push himself quietly off the mattress, rolling to sit on the edge, his head in his hands. Kate had said no, and he had made a terrible mistake.

* * *

Grace's eyes blinked open to a dark room, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore lulling her. Her hand reached out blindly only to find the space next to her vacant, the pillow cold.

"Rick?" Her voice croaked as she rolled over, rubbing one hand over her eyes. Her vision adjusted slowly to the night, the dim light of the moon streaming in through the open window. When only silence answered her call, Grace pushed herself up in the bed, legs swinging over the side. She pulled Castle's discarded burgundy button down over her naked skin, shielding herself from the chill of the air as she padded quietly down the stairs.

"Rick?" She questioned again as she rounded the bottom of the stairs, a slight frown painting her face at the lack of sound— no fingers tapping at a keyboard, no low hum of a television. Last night when he had disappeared on her she had found him typing away, promising he would be back up in a minute. She had found him the next morning asleep on the narrow couch in the library.

She paused in the open doorway of his office, one hand wrapped around the wooden frame, the other toying with the ends of her dark brown hair, which had fallen over her shoulder. His back was turned to her as he slumped in his chair, an empty tumbler in one hand, resting on the arm. She sighed as she leaned her head against the doorframe. The last couple of days had been nice. It had been good to get away from The City, from work. It was tearing her down, piece by piece. She was starting to crumble. She hadn't thought coming back would be easy, but she had never imagined it would be this traumatic, this lonely. But the visit also hadn't been anything short of awkward. He had been withdrawn, so had she. Anytime any conversation bordering on real or serious had been broached she had managed to distract him with a falling bikini top or by literally ripping the shirt off his back. The floor was still littered with discarded buttons.

Richard Castle had had an image, one eerily similar to hers, only on a larger scale— playboy of the writing world. She was the party girl of the modeling one. Except they really weren't as similar as she had originally thought. He had a family he loved, a daughter he boasted about constantly but she had yet to meet, a fierce loyalty in his heart. They had never mentioned anything about dating or being anything more than a distraction from the real world that was threatening to overwhelm them both. She had spent the majority of the summer losing herself in men and clubs, the music thrumming through her veins, the pulse driving any and all thoughts from her head, just like she had for the last ten years. He had been here alone, working, brooding, waiting for her, for…

No, they weren't so alike after all.

They did have one thing in common though— they were two depressed people hiding from the world. And it was time to make a change.

"Rick?"

He turned at the sound of her voice, and her eyes fell to the cell phone clutched in his other hand, her sister's picture and number lighting up the screen. His finger clicked the button on the top of the phone quickly, sending the screen dark, and placed both objects on the side of the desk. Grace's lips pressed into a thin, closed-mouth smile as she walked through the room, pushing his laptop backward so she could slip onto the desk in front of him, her legs bracketing his chair.

"Hey." His voice was rough with guilt and scotch.

"What you up to?"

He shrugged as his fingers popped open the top button of her shirt. It was a distraction technique that usually worked both ways and she ran a hand through his disheveled hair, scratching his scalp gently as he moved on to the second button.

"Did you sleep at all?"

"A little," he sighed, a hand skimming up her bare thigh when he realized she wasn't going to be so easily deterred from her line of questioning.

"You're in love with her aren't you?" The words came out before she could stop them, a soft murmur which raced like a bullet through the room, causing Rick to freeze mid buttonhole.

Her hand left his hair, pressing over his on her thigh, pushing it slowly off of her skin and onto the desk.

"What?" His attention was fully on her now as his hands fell to his lap, leaving her mourning the loss of his warmth, the tactile connection.

Grace shook her head, a hand running through her hair as she turned to look out the window, only the black of the beach greeting her. The words, that thought, which had been present at the back of her mind, taunting her, was out there now, she couldn't take it back. Maybe it was for the best. So, she turned back to him, her gaze steady as it met his.

"Rick, every day for a year you go, you follow her around, you're writing a _series_ of books about her. You know exactly how she takes her coffee, her favorite order of Chinese. You build "theory" together. Then you come and you fall into my bed- the one person in the world who looks exactly like her."

"Grace..." He shook his head slowly as he said her name, denial and worry pooling in his eyes.

She sighed as her hands worked to rebutton her shirt, and she pushed herself off of the desk, falling to the balls of her feet.

"Rick, be honest with yourself. Which one of us are you thinking about when the lights go out?"

His eyes, which had been focused on her, fell to an unknown spot on the floor. Her heart thumped against her sternum as his eyes searched the ground, looking for an answer he would never find in the plush, ivory carpet. His voice was small, hoarse when it finally came.

"I'm sorry."

The two simple words sent her flying, falling, head first, spiraling as she grasped for something, anything. He was sitting before her, looking ashamed for betraying her with a woman he wasn't even involved with. Apologizing for hurting her, for hurting himself. But it wasn't his fault. It was hers. This was what drowning felt like. Spluttering, clawing, gasping and then that final moment of clarity, accepting that you'll never resurface.

"No, no. I'm the one who's sorry. I knew and I still..." Grace let out a sigh, her fingers pressed against her lips. She was the one who was messed up and it had taken coming back to New York for her to realize it, as if Atlas had decided to unburden himself onto her. And Rick deserved to know the truth. "I used you and I let you use me. I'm screwed up and I am so sorry."

His eyes lifted back to hers, holding steady as hers broke away. "I told myself that I was fine, that I left because my Dad and Katie were the ones who were drowning. I thought I was okay, but I'm just starting to realize that I wasn't, I'm still not. They've both figured out how to swim again, but I'm still here flailing."

Only she wasn't just flailing anymore, she was barely keeping herself from going under. She risked a glance at him, only to find no anger or betrayal evident in his eyes, only curiosity and understanding. So she continued, the words held in so tightly before breaking free like water through a breached levee.

"When I left I partied a lot. Every time I started to get stressed or think about something serious or about home, my dad, Kate..."

She let out an unsteady breath, the tears pricking her eyes flooding her cheeks at her next words. "My mom... I would pop a pill or take a shot, and I realized it. I saw it and I stopped. Only I didn't stop, I just replaced it with this."

He watched, face solemn as her finger motioned between them, silently waiting for her to continue, for her words to keep coming. Words she had never spoken aloud. "With men, sex... And I don't know what it is, what's broken, but I know I have to stop. I have to fix it because now it's not just me. I just wanted to be happy again, but I'm hurting people and I can't even bring myself to pick up a phone and call my own father and let him know I'm here and that I love him and Katie... She, she's never going to forgive me for this, for what I've said and done and I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry."

The words were half sobs, cracking, unintelligible off her lips, but they continued to come until his arms wrapped around her shaking body, pulling her into a warm cocoon of a hug.

"Shh, it's okay. It'll be okay, I promise."

"My mom's dead, Rick." Grace whispered the words into his shoulder between sniffling gasps, her hands trapped against his chest. "She's dead, my family hates me, and it's taken me eleven years to realize I'm not okay with it."

"They don't hate you," Castle murmured. "If anything Kate misses you, and yeah, she's a little angry but mostly she's just sad and worried. You can fix this."

"I can't..."

"Yeah, you can. You Beckett women are tough. You can do anything you set your mind to."

Grace huffed out a laugh. "You're crazy. Kate's always been the strong one."

"No, I'm right. You know I'm right. You and Kate are more alike than you realize."

"You love her, Rick?" Her voice was small, her face turning against his shoulder so she could stare at the sun as it started to break over the water.

"I... It doesn't matter; she's dating that guy. The cop."

Grace smiled softly as she pulled back to look at him, a hand twisting free to dry her cheeks. "Trust me, that cop doesn't hold a candle to what you and Kate could have. I've seen it, that connection, and I've barely been in the same room with the two of you. You and me? We're _good_ at the easy stuff but you and Kate- you have the potential to be _extraordinary_."

He ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up in an adorable imitation of a hedgehog. "You think so?"

"I know so."

His face broke into his first genuine smile of the weekend. "I believe you."

She quirked a conspiratorial eyebrow at him. "I'm smarter than I want people to realize."

"Oh, that I know, Grace Beckett. That I know."

Grace smiled at that, one jagged piece of her heart slowly mending as she pushed up onto her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I, um, I should go."

"No. Stay."

She pegged him with an incredulous look as he caught her hand, stalling her from leaving the room. "Did we not just have that entire conversation where you almost actually admitted you were in love with my sister?"

Castle let out a huff. "I meant stay as a friend. I think we could both use a little companionship of the completely clothed variety."

Grace shifted, suddenly very aware of her half-naked state. "Okay, I can do that. I could use a friend."

"Well, you've got one."

"But I'm still going to go change and move my stuff to one of the guestrooms."

"Okay, I'll start some coffee, and Grace?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you not tell Kate about this? I should be the one."

Grace nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Don't hurt my little sister again, Ricky. She's the best person I know, and I think we've both done that enough already."

* * *

July 2010

Grace sucked in a deep breath as she pushed herself off the brown brick wall of the building across the street from the Twelfth Precinct. This had been part of the deal for when she had returned from the Hamptons. Talk to Kate. Her feet felt like they were encased in cement as she crossed the road, fingertips tapping at her leg in anxiety as she entered the lobby of the building. Her vision blurred, heart pounding in her chest. She couldn't do this.

Her phone chimed in her pocket just as she turned to flee.

_You can do this. _

With a subtle nod of her head she turned back around, putting one foot in front of the other through the lobby. She could do this.

"Detective Beckett, I've been looking everywhere for you. Here's the Hutton case file."

"I, uh..." Grace voiced as the uniformed cop shoved a thick Manila folder in her hand before turning and hurrying down the hall. With a frown she turned and shuffled over to the elevators, the file cradled in her arm. At least she had an opening line now.

"Beckett!"

Grace sighed as she exited the elevator. This was going to get old.

"Yo, what did you... You're not Beckett."

Grace gave the Latino detective a small smile as he came to a stop in front of her. "No, I'm not. Well at least not your, that, Beckett."

"You must be Grace," he replied with a charming smile, his hand stuck out in greeting. "Javier Esposito."

"Hi." Grace returned as she grasped his palm. "It's nice to meet you. Do you know where Kate is?"

"Hey, Javi? Do you know where the Hutton file is? Velasquez swears she handed it to me in the lobby but I haven't been... Grace."

"Hey," Grace said, her free fingers lifting in a small wave as her sister came to a sudden stop in front of her. "She thought I was you."

"Hi." Kate replied tightly, reaching out to take the proffered file.

"Well," Esposito stated as he looked between the two in the awkward triangle they had formed in the middle of the bullpen. "I should go, Ryan and I have some dumpster diving to do. Beckett, other Beckett."

"Thanks, Espo. Grab Johnson and LT to help you," Kate supplied, her eyes never leaving Grace.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" Kate had pulled Grace into the break room, away from the curious eyes of an entire floor of cops.

"I moved back," Grace started as she stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, her eyes wandering the space until landing on the wall of posters, hotline numbers and announcements.

"I know." Kate shot back. "Castle told me."

"Right..." She shifted, her hands moving from her sides to her hair to her pockets. "I just..."

She looked over to where Kate was leaning against the counter, jaw tight, arms crossed over her chest, shoulders tense. Grace felt the tears pricking at her eyes once again. She wasn't going to cry. She had promised herself.

"Katie..." She took another deep breath as her voice cracked. She could do this. "Katie, I want to come home."

* * *

A/N: I honestly don't know know what the reactions will be for this chapter, but I hope I didn't lose too many of you with the latest developments. Thank you as always for reading and I look forward to your thoughts. Also, thank you to KC for the beta and the candor all while spearheading TYT.


	10. With The Lights Out, It's Less Dangerous

Chapter 10- With The Lights Out, It's Less Dangerous

August 2010

"I can't do this."

Kate glanced over at her sister where they stood side by side in the elevator. It had been a tedious month full of awkward, stilted conversations and nervous laughter. But after everything, despite those strained lulls, it had been nice. The moments that were "like it was before" were coming more frequent. They were both different people than they had been eleven years before, but they were learning, building a new version of that relationship.

Kate shifted, transferring the crisp loaf of bread from the French bakery down the block to her other hand and twined her now-free fingers around her sister's. Kate squeezed Grace's palm as she took in the way the fingers of Grace's free hand tapped a staccato beat against her thigh. Her manicured nails had been chewed to the quick, a nervous habit Grace had been forced to remedy when she had started modeling. Mandatory perfection.

"You're going to be fine. He's really excited to have you back."

Grace's jaw worked, her head shaking. "I don't see how."

"He's our dad, Grace, of course he's excited. He loves you, you know."

"He shouldn't."

"Gracie…"

"You weren't excited. You were angry."

"Yeah, I was," Kate sighed. Her teeth dug into her lower lip, thoughts vollying back and forth while she debated how much she wanted to give away. "But that was different."

Grace's sharp intake of air caused Kate to look over at her, brow creasing as she studied her sister's expression. But before Kate could question the stiffness in her shoulders, her sweaty palms, the elevator dinged and the doors opened to reveal the quiet hallway leading to their father's apartment.

"He moved," Grace murmured, like she had just made the connection that the building they had walked into wasn't the same where they had grown up.

"Yeah," Kate replied when she stepped onto the navy carpet. The mustard and green floral pattern was faded in two parallel rows, stating more about human behavior than any sociological dissertation ever could. "After rehab he decided it would be easier to start over. A new place without all the memories."

She glanced over to see Grace's abused thumbnail clenched between her teeth, her eyes wide and blank. With a huff, Kate reached out and batted her sister's hand away from her face. "Stop it. Don't make me get that bitter nail polish Mom put on you as a kid."

"What about her stuff?"

Kate paused outside their father's door and turned to face Grace, her fingers reaching up to curl a loose lock of hair behind her sister's ear. Her voice went soft while she explained through the ten-year-old heartache.

"Some of it's still here, I took a few things to my apartment, and the rest went into a storage unit. I'm sure Dad would be okay with you looking through it if you want."

"But you didn't get rid of anything?"

"No, sweetie, we didn't. Not of hers, and not of yours either."

Kate stayed silent while Grace's head bobbed in a slow nod. They had been walking a tightrope the last few weeks. Kate had always been the steady one of the pair, relying on logic and compartmentalization where Grace played off gut instinct and emotion. Over their years apart, the balance they had formed as children— how they relied on each other, played off of each other's strengths, had been chipped away, leaving a trail of eggshells in its wake.

"You ready?"

"No."

Kate reached out, clasping her sister's hand in hers once again. With one final squeeze she let go and knocked.

Grace ran her fingers through her hair, the worried strands falling into perfect waves. Her face transformed into a mask that Kate had seen too many times over the past few months.

"Here goes nothing."

* * *

Grace watched when her father pulled Kate into a bone-crushing hug. It was surreal— this new version of the man in front of her. There was more depth in his eyes, a weariness that seeped down to his soul, but he was a far cry from the man she and Kate had hauled off of too many bar stools, making sure to prop him on his side when he passed out so that he wouldn't choke on his own vomit. The soft smile that had crossed his face when he had first seen her sister melted away to a kind of wonder when his eyes caught hers over Kate's shoulder.

"You actually came."

Tears pricked Grace's eyes. Her own father hadn't believed he would ever see her again.

"Hi Daddy."

"Hi baby."

His arms ensnared her, pressing her back together, making her whole again. Grace's arms wrapped around his back, her eyes meeting Kate's, guilt gnawing at her gut. Her sister slipped past them through the door with a small smile and Grace snuggled her face into her father's shoulder, taking in the familiar scent that had filled their childhood— nights sitting his his lap, one on each knee as he read them anything from the latest adventures of Laura Ingalls Wilder to the Cat in the Hat.

"I missed you."

The words were barely a whisper in her ear, but the conviction behind them was overwhelming, causing the tears to break free in torrents down her cheeks, her voice caught on a sob.

"I missed you too."

Part of her was surprised to find she meant it.

The apartment was quaint, Grace noted when she roamed the space. She could see the touches Kate had added in over the years— brief interruptions of color and whimsy in the sea of neutrals. Her fingers ran along the back of her father's worn brown leather recliner, the one their mother had detested, but Jim had loved to relax in during the evenings and weekends. Too many nights he would fall asleep there, the crossword puzzle forgotten in his lap, a late night talk show droning on the tv, Johanna waking him with a gentle yet stern shake of the shoulder to coax him to bed. It was a ritual she and Kate had seen many times, from children up far past their bedtime, to teenagers peeking from the crack of their door waiting until it was safe to sneak barefoot across the living room to the front door.

Kate and their father were talking in the kitchen, their words lost in a hum of murmurs, interrupted only by the crunching of the paper grocery bag. Rounding the chair, Grace's fingertips tripped off the back, her arm falling limply at her side. A row of pictures lined the mantle of the stone fireplace in the corner, and she stepped toward the frozen, jovial faces. Only one of them was new- Kate in her dress uniform, new badge in hand as she beamed at the camera, their father beside her, a matching, yet strained, smile on his face.

"That was when she was promoted to detective. We had had an argument the night before." Grace stilled when her father's voice sounded from behind her, her eyes never leaving the photograph. "I was so scared for her life, her motivations. In some ways it was worse than when she was on patrol. I was just waiting for that call to come in, a voice I didn't know telling me my daughter was in the hospital."

Grace's chest constricted, a vise on her lungs.

"I didn't go to her police academy graduation, I'm sure you remember. I sat on a bar stool instead."

She could only nod, a shallow dip of her head. Neither of them had gone. She had said she had a photoshoot, a layout she couldn't get out of. In reality she had gone to a club, ecstasy flowing through her system. Like father, like daughter.

"She didn't expect me to show up. The smile on her face when she saw me in the crowd... I knew then it was worth it, if only to see my daughter so happy, doing what she loved. What she was born to do."

"What about that fear?" The question was low, the burn of emotion in her throat making her voice hoarse.

"Oh," Jim chuckled. "That came to a head about a week later. Some punk gangbanger stabbed her in the arm with a pocket knife."

"What?" Grace whirled around in shock at her father's flippant tone.

"The look of indignation on her face when I ran into that hospital room. She was trying to convince the doctor that a cut which ended up needing fifteen stitches would be okay with just a Band-aid. I could never control her, Gracie. No one can. I've learned to let go."

Let go. Grace's eyes drifted to the next picture in the line. It was of the four of them, one big happy family. It had been taken the Thanksgiving before Johanna had died. Let go of the fear that Kate would be found dead in an alley just like their mother. The fear that their father would relapse and die slowly of liver failure or quickly from alcohol poisoning or a drunk driving accident. Fear that a true wayward event could take any of them out at any moment.

Her breath caught as she came to the next picture, it was a snapshot of her, a little blurry but definitely her, walking the catwalk of New York Fashion Week.

"You were there."

Jim hummed an affirmative. "Katie told me you were in town. We went to see you. Figured you wouldn't see us with all the flashing lights and yelling people but I wanted to see my baby girl. We slipped out before the show ended."

Grace swallowed a sob, a single hand coming up to press two fingers to her lips. She had so much to apologize for, to make up for. Her body crumpled under the weight.

"Hey, you okay?" The tentative but steady pressure of his hand on her shoulder pushed her over the edge, into the depths or out of them she wasn't sure, but she found herself turning, her entire body slamming into his in a hug, his arms tight around her, promising to never let go.

"I could really use a drink," she sobbed, gasping in horror when she pulled back, an apology on her lips.

Laughter danced in her father's eyes. "It's good to have you home, Gracie."

* * *

January 2011

Kate stared at the door in front of her, her hands clenched in fists at her sides. It had been almost five months since they had been face to face, since that rainy day just after Labor Day when he had been the one knocking on her door. Eyes downcast, those four foreboding words falling from his lips.

"_We need to talk." _

Part of her had wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. They hadn't been together. He hadn't cheated. He had committed no sins to repent. Yet, he had. And Everything they had worked for, everything she and Grace had rebuilt crumbled with one confession.

The finality of their parting words rang through her head like a vinyl stuck on repeat.

"_I would have expected something like this from her, Castle, but not from you. Get out."_

And now… now she was here, seeking him out because she couldn't do this alone, and despite everything she had made a promise to him, to herself.

Her own words from almost a year ago shoved their argument to the background. S_omeday soon, I'm gonna find the sons of bitches who had Coonan kill her. And I'd like you around when I do._

With a deep breath, she raised her fist, willing it not to shake, and she knocked.

"Hi." The greeting a scrape off his tongue.

"Hey, Castle." Her lips failed to twitch even when she tried to force a smile. The relief and anxiety swirling through her shone back from his eyes. "Thanks for seeing me."

"Always."

From anyone else the word would have been a saccharine platitude but from him… Her heart stuttered against her ribs, her pulse pounded from her neck to her toes.

"Hi, Katie."

Kate peered around Castle to find Grace standing in the middle of the loft's living room, her arms all awkward angles, her hands fidgeting at her sides. The five months since they had last spoken felt longer than the eleven years of silence before.

"_What the hell did you do?"_

"_Kate, I know you're upset but it was a mistake, for both of us. It didn't mean anything."_

"_It didn't mean anything? Tell me, how does that work, Grace? Oh, wait, I forgot I'm talking to the woman who will spread her legs for anything male that moves."_

"_I mean it was a mistake. If we could take it back we would."_

"_Yeah, well. You can't. And you know what makes it worse? I let you fool me. Again. I was actually starting to believe you wanted to make things right."_

"_Kate. I did! I do. Look, I'm in Paris right now for meetings. Let's talk about this when I get back to New York next week, face to face."_

"_You know what? Don't bother to come home. You're not welcome here."_

"Hi, Gracie. Thanks for coming."

Grace tucked a lock of hair behind her own ear, nodding in reply. "I was down the block having brunch with Dad. Your message said it was important."

"It is."

Kate jumped when she felt a pair of hands at her shoulders, sliding her coat from her arms. Turning to look, she caught sight of Castle's pink cheeks.

"Sorry."

"No, thank you. I'm the one who's sorry," she replied, her voice low.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Kate."

It was true, she hadn't done anything wrong, except she had acted like a jealous teenager. She had cut her sister out of her life again, and for what? A boy? And the boy… the boy had been a good friend, if not her best friend, someone who had stuck with her through gunfights, psychopaths and bombs. Literally.

"How's Demming?"

"Huh?" Kate whipped around when the words yanked her from her thoughts, the move leaving them a half step too close for a casual meeting.

"Tom? Your boyfriend?"

"Oh, uh, we broke up."

"Really?"

She had imagined the upturned lilt in his voice. She had.

"Yeah, a couple months ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

Kate lifted her eyes from where they had been studying her hands, the worn thumbnail she had been worrying all morning, staring at her phone, debating if she should make the call to him and Grace.

"Just wasn't working. We were too much alike."

"Yeah…"

"It's, uh, it's good to see you." She hadn't expected the flurry of butterflies in her stomach at the sight of him. She had gotten over him, over any silly notion that they could work.

His lips broke into a smile, one that crinkled at the corners of his eyes, chasing away any lingering traces of worry. "It's good to see you too. I've missed you."

"I've missed you too." And Kate was surprised to find she meant it. Clearing her throat, she took a step back. "I mean, the boys did nothing but mope around for a month after you stopped coming around. Kevin has even tried to pick up the slack on your screwball theories. He's awful at it."

Castle let out a chuckle and turned to hang her coat in the closet, letting her off the hook for her confession. "See, there is a finesse needed to pull off a truly Castle-esque theory."

"So, I've heard."

Castle extended an arm, guiding her toward the living room and to her sister who had wandered over to stare out the window. "What's going on, Kate?"

"I got a call today," Kate started when she settled into the chair and Castle on the couch. Grace took a silent step closer. "From Detective Raglan."

The stilted air that had been hanging in the loft stiffened like a noose, the only sound Grace's quick intake of breath.

"He said he wanted to meet me today, tell me something. I want you to come with me. Both of you," her eyes landed on Castle before cutting to her sister. "You deserve to be there."

Grace's head bobbed, a minute movement, but it was Castle's fingers that reached across, wrapping around her own. It was his voice that drifted through the room, soothing the frayed nerves that hadn't fully settled in six months.

"I wouldn't be anywhere else."

* * *

A/N: Thank you to any of you out there still reading this. It's definitely been a while. The next update shouldn't take nearly as long. I've appreciated the gentle nudges some of you have given over the last year+.

Thank you also to Kate Christie, Molly (Muppet47) and Jenny (Airbefore) for the betas and pom poms. This story would have a lot less structure and a lot more adverbs without you.

Until next time.

Twitter: aspen_musing

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